Stars
by ChildOfBalance
Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry No pairings!
1. The Swan

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_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 1: The Swan**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

-0-

When Cygnus Rowan first moved into number four, Privet Drive, he did not expect to see a baby on the doorstep.

Cygnus looked at the basket and took it into the house. He ran a hand through his white hair, humming lightly. Moving from Taiwan had its inconveniences, but he had decided several months ago that it would be best to avoid the Asian Magical Community. After all, his silvery white hair stood out like a beacon in crowds and always gathered unwanted attention. He was a bit sick of hiding himself under potions and glamour. He had briefly considered dying his hair black the non-magical way, but had ultimately decided against it.

Now, all he wanted to do was live in peace. Working as a warding specialist allowed him to get a rather solid job in Gringotts bank. And the goblins seemed to like the fact that he treated them like actual beings. It probably helped that in most Asian countries, magical creatures were treated the same as everyone else.

Cygnus looked at the sleeping baby and then looked around for anything that would help identify the boy. Nothing. Well, that didn't help matters any.

He was a small little thing—only a year old, Cygnus would guess. He had scruffy black hair and a lightening bolt scar on his forehead. Cygnus could only guess where he got something like that.

Gently scooping up the baby from his basket, Cygnus carried the child to his new master bedroom and placed him on the bed, tucking him in. He would need to buy baby supplies from the non-magical community. For their lack of magic, Cygnus thought they have done very well in adapting to the environment and inventing new things. Electricity was well known to malfunction in magical households, but the Asian community had found a way to adapt to that so the magical community wouldn't be too far behind in the non-magical world.

For that reason, Cygnus found the magical community in Britain to be utter idiots.

Cygnus didn't think he would ever understand why the community in Britain decided it was a good thing to remain in _robes_ and still throw _owls_ at each other. Telephones did their jobs just as well as any _owl_. And _robes_ were tacky. All in all, it attracted far too much attention from the non-magical community.

Cygnus glanced at the child and placed a nonverbal, wandless charm on the blanket to inform him when the baby was awake. Then he went to the front door to set up his wards. Protection wards were always number one in his mind when he set up wards. After all, non-magicals and magicals were just as likely to try to break into his house.

He had just finished setting up the wards when the charm alerted him that the baby had shifted. Cygnus headed back up the stairs and poked his head in the room, looking at the baby. The child stared back at him, his bright emerald green eyes wide.

"Right, okay," Cygnus said, talking more to himself than to the baby. "Let's get you something to eat first. I'll go to the market. I might as well bring you along so someone can help me figure out what you need."

The baby gave a gurgle and grinned up at him. Cygnus smiled lightly in return.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad?

-0-

After collecting the items he needed to care for a young baby boy, Cygnus now stewed on a new problem. He had made up some story about his cousin dropping off his nephew for him to babysit while they ran off to their tenth anniversary. Thankfully, the woman at the store seemed to accept the story, giving him a pitying look and offering to help him select all the things he would need to care for a small child.

So his shopping trip had ended in success. He had even made a new friend along the way.

The child grinned at Cygnus as Cygnus prepared a bottle. Honestly, Cygnus was surprised the baby wasn't screaming to be fed—being in that basket for god knows how long and then being hauled to the market for shopping—but then again, he was pretty sure the baby was magical.

Cygnus found this to be extremely odd. Magicals, especially in the Asian community, always cared for their young. Family was a very powerful dynamic in the Asian community, magical or not, and children were always treasured. Of course, there were exceptions to the rule, but typically, if someone found out that that the child had been abandoned by a family that was able to care for them; they would be shunned by the community. In addition, this was a boy, who traditionally carried the family name.

He reached for the baby as he twirled his magic on a finger and let it mix with the milk formula. Normally, babies who were breastfed got antibodies from the mother's body through breast milk but if the mother was not present or if the baby was adopted by a single dad, then the magic of the father would carry the antibodies. It was a bonus that the child would gain magic from him.

Well, it wasn't like Cygnus was going to complain. He wasn't very old, but he had pretty much known that he was going to adopt a child. Considering that this was a boy, it was advantageous to keep him rather than throw him into the nearest orphanage. He needed someone who would carry on the family name.

Cygnus hummed lightly as he lowered the nipple towards the child's mouth. The child latched on without any trouble and began to drink.

There was a knock at the door and Cygnus looked up. He debated leaving the door shut and pretending he wasn't home, as he was busy at the moment, but then thought better of it. With a little magic, he unlocked the door and stood up, holding the child with one hand and feeding him with the other as he walked over to the door. If it was a non-magical, he would shoo them away and tell them to come back later.

When he opened the door, however, he came face-to-face with an old man with a long beard wearing the _ugliest set of robes_ Cygnus has _ever_ seen. Cygnus raised an eyebrow at the old man and sighed.

"Come back in twenty minutes. I need to finish feeding him," Cygnus said calmly, looking at the old man.

"Ah, but, you see, I need to speak to you about the young child," the old man replied politely.

Cygnus hesitated but then sighed, opening the door further with his magic.

"Fine, but make it quick," he said calmly. "I will need to put him to bed after he finishes and I don't think he'll appreciate the noise."

The old man entered the house and Cygnus waved his hand to close the door. He made his way into the living room and sat down on the couch, watching the child drink and making sure he didn't choke.

"If you have magic, might I ask you why you don't simply spell the bottle to stay up?" the old man asked, sinking into an armchair.

"Because physical contact builds bonding with children. Magic sharing is common among children and it helps the child control their magic better," Cygnus stated plainly. "So, what about the kid? Who is he and why was he on my doorstep?"

The old man seemed to sit up a little straighter at the question and cleared his throat. "The child's name is Harry Potter. His mother and father was unfortunately killed yesterday by the Dark Lord."

"Forgive me, but I just moved in this morning. From Taiwan. I have not heard of news in the UK," Cygnus said, watching the child finish the bottle and lifting him to his shoulder and patting him lightly. "Who is this Dark Lord, what does he want, and why did he decide to orphan young Harry?"

"This Dark Lord's name is Tom Riddle. He came to power over ten years ago with the mindset that muggles were inferior to the magical community, particularly purebloods, and went around terrorizing the muggle community," the old man stated. "I am Albus Dumbledore. I led an organization against Tom to fight against his reign."

"What are muggles?" Cygnus asked, still patting a sleepy Harry on the back and feeling Harry's chubby fingers in his hair.

"Non-magic folk," Albus answered. "I couldn't help but notice the wards you put up as I walked in. They're quite impressive."

"I made them," Cygnus said, shrugging. "My name is Cygnus Rowan. It's impressive that you were able to see them. They're intended to keep out non-welcome intruders."

"Wonderful," Albus said, "simply wonderful." He dug in his pockets and pulled out a little box. "Lemon drop?" He held out the box to Cygnus, but Cygnus shook his head. "Ah, pity." He took one and popped it in his mouth.

"I doubt you came here to tell me about these wards though," Cygnus said calmly, hearing Harry burp but keeping him over his shoulder so Harry could continue to play with his hair. "Tell me why Harry was dumped on my doorstep."

"The thing is, Harry Potter is hailed as a savior in our world. Because of this, he is targeted by Tom's old supporters. I originally put him on the doorstep for his mother's sister, Petunia Evans, to take in. However, as you can see, she refused and decided to abandon young Harry instead," Albus said calmly. "He needs to grow up in a place where he is protected and I'm afraid I had counted on Petunia to take him in. As a blood relative of Harry, her protection would have been ideal."

Cygnus studied the old man thoughtfully, but then nodded slowly. "I see. I figured it was a bit suspicious that this house was sold so cheaply, but I never thought all the fuss would have been because of a child. So, what is your plan of action now?"

"I do not believe Tom is really gone," Albus said calmly. "I believe he's simply biding his time, waiting to get stronger. He originally attacked the Potters due to a prophecy that he had heard about that involved young Harry here."

"British Magicals still believe in prophecies?" Cygnus' voice was filled with disbelief. "How stupid. Any prophet knows that prophecies are self-fulfilling. If it is fate, it will happen regardless of prompting or action."

"Unfortunately, young Harry here had to pay for the price," Albus said nodding a little. "Originally I was going to take young Harry away to be adopted by a muggle family, but it seems he has attached himself to you quite quickly."

"In more ways than one," Cygnus commented, trying to tug his hair away from the grabby child's fingers. He sighed a little in relief as Harry let go of the silky white strands and looked at Albus. "So you're saying I should raise him?"

"Quite," Albus said pleased, looking at the playful Harry in contentment. "I will file the adoption papers and bring them for you to finalize."

"Right," Cygnus said calmly, eyeing Albus. "And what, exactly, do you get from this exchange?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," Albus said, honestly, looking slightly confused.

"Don't play daft with me, Albus Dumbledore," Cygnus said calmly. "Harry Potter, regardless of being a savior, has no further part in your war. Why do you go out of your way to help him or us? Be clear now."

Understanding dawned on Albus' face. He nodded slowly and added, "It has been prophesized that young Harry here will be the one to finish Tom when he rises again."

Cygnus inhaled deeply, glancing at the child who was grabbing his hair again. "I see. And you want to train a child to kill this Dark Lord when you have your own organization to fight against him?"

A blush crossed Albus' face. But he didn't stand down.

"Please understand. Prophecies have power. Tom will rise again, and I fear that the damage he could do will be far greater than what he has already accomplished," Albus said, looking at Cygnus pleadingly.

"Children are not weapons, Albus Dumbledore," Cygnus said softly. "They are not pawns for a game in war. Do not make the assumption I will raise this child to be a weapon in your war. The child does not deserve that, nor should any child be coerced into becoming a murderer in war. I have seen children forced into war. It's not pretty. And the child never comes out right in the end."

Albus fell silent, looking at Cygnus. "It's for the greater good."

Cygnus shook his head. "No, Albus. It's not in the good for Harry that you did this, nor is it in the good for the public to let a child fight for their freedom. I'm afraid I can't, in good conscious, allow you to do this to any child. If it is Harry's fate to kill Tom Riddle, then the time will come when Tom Riddle will come. In the meantime, all I can do is prepare him for the worst."

There was a silence and Albus suddenly broke into a wide smile. "Excellent! I'll have those papers ready as soon as possible."

Cygnus staggered a little, a little unnerved by the eccentricity of the old man before giving a hesitant nod. "Uh… huh…"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rowan! I hope we can be good friends!" Albus said. "You're quite an accomplished wizard, you know. Wandless magic isn't something that everyone knows how to do."

Cygnus frowned a little and then watched as Albus Dumbledore stood up and extended a hand.

"I hope you'll enjoy your stay in Britain. If you need anything, please send me an owl at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Albus said. "Please raise young Harry well."

And with that, he apparated out of the room. Cygnus gave the space he was occupating a wary look and looked at Harry.

"I need to ward the house from that too," he murmured. Harry giggled and grabbed his nose, making Cygnus wince. He pulled Harry's fingers from his nose and sighed. "Ai-yah, I totally forgot to ask him where to get an owl."

-0-

As it turned out, the goblins were more than happy to have Cygnus work from home. Cygnus smiled and showed his appreciation by working hard at his new job. Warding was relatively simple as it was usually objects that were warded rather than areas.

Harry grew up slowly. Cygnus allowed Harry to go to public school, with the condition that he not show his classmates his magical power, as he doubted the non-magicals would take that well. Harry was more than happy to practice his magic in Cygnus' home rather than outside.

It occurred to Cygnus, based on the owl sent from the Ministry of Magic, that children were prone to Accidental Magic and that magic was not to be freely practiced by children and parents were supposed to enforce this law. Cygnus thought this was complete and utter bull, as if one didn't practice with their magic, how would they ever improve on control? He disregarded the letter and threw up wards to prevent the non-magicals from seeing anything suspicious.

He had spotted several visitors—magical visitors, for that matter—that he could only assume Dumbledore had sent to keep an eye out on Harry. Harry didn't seem to notice, but every time they passed the wards on number four, Cygnus would grunt in irritation.

As Harry's eleventh birthday approached, Cygnus put down Gringotts paperwork and looked at Harry. Harry was sitting across from him, doing his summer homework from school, his eyes narrowed in concentration, his pencil scribbling out formulas. Cygnus smiled a little.

"So, Harry," Cygnus said, leaning forward. "Your birthday is coming up in about a month. What would you like to do?"

Harry looked up, his bright green eyes shining under his almost invisible glasses. Cygnus was a little put out at first at the need to get glasses, preferring to fix the problem using Harry's own magic, but Harry had not developed enough control for that yet. So Harry had chosen the glasses frame and Cygnus has bought the pair for him.

"Hm… I was thinking about going to the zoo," Harry said, smiling. "Will you take me for my birthday? I really want to go!"

Cygnus thought about it and nodded slowly. "Alright. A zoo, hm? I'll have to go see which zoo is closest to our house. In the meantime, I want you to finish your homework. We'll practice control of your magic at six."

Harry nodded eagerly and went back to his homework. Cygnus gave a small smile.

Harry had decided that he wanted to take on Cygnus' last name, which was why he was now known as Harry Potter-Rowan. He preferred to be known as Harry Rowan though, for which Cygnus seemed to be pleased with. Cygnus has not had any further contact with Albus Dumbledore in almost ten years, which was a good thing in Cygnus' book.

At six PM sharp, Harry stood up, pulling Cygnus towards the "training room" Cygnus had devised. The training room used to be the garage, but Cygnus felt it better to be used for training. The walls and floor was magically enlarged and warded completely. It was actually the safest place in the house—apart from the bedrooms. No magic could leave the room from inside and no magic could enter from the outside. That way, there were no accidental explosions that occurred.

Harry loved training. Cygnus was actually quite pleased that he enjoyed training so much, as usually, children hated to work. But for Harry, it seemed to be thrilling and a way to express himself. Cygnus had told him of his fame, and had warned him, quite readily, that fame was not a gift. It drew attention to him and that was, almost always a bad thing when he was being targeted by Dark Lords or his ex-army.

Cygnus withdrew an egg from his pocket and offered it to Harry. "I want you to bounce this egg without touching it a hundred times. Don't drop it and don't break it. Can you do that for me?"

Harry grinned a little, picking up the egg and feeling the weight and texture of the shell. He tossed it into the air and extended his magic, trying to keep it in the air so he could bounce it.

Cygnus knew immediately that Harry had fired off too much magic. But he remained silent as the egg's thin shell shattered and Harry got a face full of egg. He grinned a little and waved his hand, cleaning Harry of egg and sighing.

"There's a carton of eggs over there," Cygnus said, pointing to the small table next to the door. "Good luck. Try not to make too much of a mess."

Harry laughed a little and wiped his face with a towel, trying to get the slimy feeling of the egg off. He picked up one of the eggs in the carton and threw it up.

Cygnus headed to the kitchen so he could prepare dinner. He was fairly sure that Harry would run out of eggs before he had completed the set task, but that was alright. Bouncing an egg was actually an upgrade from the empty pop can that Cygnus had asked Harry to bounce two days prior. Harry was quite eager to please, so Cygnus was sure he'd get it within a few months.

Basic training with Harry's magic was quite fun. Harry loved to play with his magic, loved to see what he could do and what his limits were. Once or twice, Harry had woken up early to practice, which Cygnus actually had to put a stop to since he had been overexerting himself.

Magic control was the basics of basics. As a child, a wand helped control the magic, but as an adult, Cygnus did not own a wand. He had no need for a way to control his magic, as he had sufficiently managed to control his magic without a wand. At the rate Harry was going, he would probably do better without a wand. Cygnus had no idea why the British Magical community wielded wands, as that was a dead giveaway that one was magical, but he supposed it was the Ministry's way of keeping track of people.

Cygnus let the rice cook in his rice cooker and started to chop up some vegetables so he could make a stir-fry. Magic was something that he lived with and breathed. Asian communities never required wands, but then again, they didn't need to control their population from doing stupid things in front of non-magicals. Also, Asian non-magicals were far more perceptive than the rather oblivious British counterparts. Obliviating someone was a very heavy crime, even if it was against non-magicals. This was because, in 1745, an Asian Ministry worker obliviated a non-magical. As a result, the non-magical completely forgot who he was and his job. His mind had been completely blown to pieces by the Ministry, his family starved to death without him, and the community he was running fell to pieces.

As a result, memory modification had been outlawed in Asia. Prevention was the best key, so warding specialists were the next logical step. Integration of the magical community in Asia had occurred shortly after that and now, in Taiwan at least, it was impossible for a non-magical to tell who was magical and who wasn't.

Traditions were still practiced, in the privacy of one's own homes, which is why warding had become the number one desirable job with positions constantly open. Magicals hardly needed to access their own magical core for anything, as the non-magicals had pretty much found a solution to everything. Miracles were synonymous with magic in Asia.

Cygnus glanced up as he heard another SPLAT coming from the training room and gave a smile. Harry had broken another egg, it seemed.

-0-

Cygnus glanced at Harry in surprise as he was hissing to the snake at the zoo. He glanced around and threw up a muffling charm, leaning down to Harry.

"Harry, do you understand what he's saying?" Cygnus whispered, looking slightly alarmed.

"What? Of course I do, don't you?" Harry asked back, looking confused.

"Harry, I don't speak snake language. I have heard of stories of people in India and Egypt who spoke it, but I do not speak it myself. Have you always been able to speak to snakes?" Cygnus asked, looking at him, his tone serious.

"Erm… I think so? I have always understood what snakes were saying, but I've never tried speaking to a snake before," Harry answered, nodding a little. Cygnus gave a small sigh.

"I see. Let me tell you though, snake language isn't a language looked highly upon in British culture. In India, you'd be hailed as a son of god and in Egypt, you'd be worshiped, but in Britain, it is a mark of the Dark Lord. Apparently, he could speak to snakes as well."

"Oh…" Harry looked nervous now, glancing around at the other people in the zoo. "I'm… sorry. I didn't realize. He was just telling me he had never been to Brazil…"

"Harry, it's not something you should apologize for. But please, do keep in mind that you should not show this ability lightly," Cygnus warned. "Only in the privacy of our home, should you practice this new found ability."

Harry nodded eagerly. Cygnus gave a sigh of relief.

"Good. Now then, should we go visit the penguins? I think they might be lonely." Cygnus took Harry's hand, leading him away from the massive boa.

By the time Harry and Cygnus arrived home, it was already late afternoon. Harry was grinning again, ear to ear, as he jumped up and down in excitement. Cygnus chuckled and went to his bedroom to retrieve his present to Harry while Harry waited downstairs in the dining room.

"Dad?" Harry's voice called up the stairs. "Dad? There's an envelope with my name on the kitchen table with all the other mail from this morning. What is it?"

Cygnus paused, blinking. He had not noticed it this morning when he had ruffled through the post. Could it have been delivered late? Or did he honestly miss it?

He came back down the stairs; Harry's present in his hands and walked over to the kitchen table to check out the mail. He smiled at Harry and said, "I don't know. You can open it after I scan it for anything dangerous."

Harry nodded eagerly, tearing at the wrapping paper of the gift as Cygnus looked at the envelope. It was thick and yellowish. Was it made of _parchment_? Cygnus wondered why anyone would bother sending Harry something made of parchment and he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. There was no return address, just a wax seal of an H. Cygnus let his magic flow into the parchment, searching for any foreign curses or hexes. He then offered it to Harry, placing it by Harry's newly unwrapped book of potions.

Considering it was addressed to Mr. H Potter-Rowan, Second bedroom on the right, Cygnus figured that it was probably made from something magical.

"It seems safe, but just in case, I've sealed any magic from escaping," Cygnus said. Harry was ogling over the potions book and Cygnus smiled.

"Oh, dad! Thank you, thank you!" Harry squealed, throwing his arms around Cygnus in excitement. "You remembered!"

Cygnus laughed, petting Harry on the head. Harry had been staring at this particular book in Flourish and Blotts for a while and Cygnus had originally refused to buy it, as they had been in Diagon Alley to look for a proper owl.

"So, what's the letter about?" Harry asked, looking at the parchment. Cygnus offered it to him and Harry broke the seal to open the letter. "Dear Mr. Potter-Rowan. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A school for magic?"

Cygnus glanced at the list of items required and then at the parchment. He frowned a little contemplating on what Albus really wanted from Harry.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

Harry's voice snapped Cygnus out of his daze and Cygnus looked at him surprised.

"Ah… yes. I am fine," Cygnus said, his frown vanishing. "What do you think? Did you want to go to this school for magic?"

"Hm…" Harry murmured, thinking about his options. "If I go though, I won't be able to see you often."

"That is true. This is a boarding school," Cygnus said. "And I somehow doubt that the magical community will teach you the skills you need to integrate into the non-magical community. Britain seems quite segregated from their non-magical counterparts."

Harry looked back at the letter. "I want to go."

"Then we must prepare for your departure. We will send Helios with your reply and get your school supplies over the weekend," Cygnus said, glancing at their owl, Helios. Helios was a gorgeous golden owl with white specks and a sharp, dangerous beak. Harry had originally chosen Helios because Helios had offered a golden feather to him in the pet shop when Harry had commented how beautiful his feathers were. Now Helios was part of their little family.

"Is it really okay?" Harry asked, looking at Cygnus. Cygnus smiled and nodded.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. You don't need to think about the complicated stuff. That's my job, remember. Do well in school and practice your magic on the weekends, but don't forget that I will be here to support you," Cygnus said, smiling. "I'm sure that your professors will help you do your best. I'll get you your own owl so you can use them to send messages back to me if anything happens."

Helios gave a screech and Cygnus laughed. "I'll be using you, Helios. Don't feel insulted."

Harry laughed and nodded, looking back at the letter. Cygnus smiled.

-0-

_**A/N: Read and Review! I love getting reviews!**_


	2. The Dragon

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 2: The Dragon**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: A lot of people are expecting Manipulative!Dumbledore. I'm going to say right now, Dumbledore is a lot sneakier than you give him credit for. And Cygnus doesn't really believe that he's pulled his fingers out of everything, which is why he was hesitant to let Harry go to Hogwarts.**_

_**And yes, there is a reason no one seems to recognize Harry as the Boy-Who-Lived. It will be explained in the next chapter, via Snape's point of view.**_

_**And as for why Cygnus didn't recognize the Hogwarts letter, well, the letter doesn't exactly state who it's from on the outside.**_

-0-

Harry bounced from shop to shop, looking for the items on the list. Cygnus went to purchase a trunk as Harry browsed through the books in Flourish and Blotts. They had to make a stop in Gringotts first, but Cygnus had decided to buy the trunk first before going to the bank. After all, Cygnus could ward the trunk a lot better than any of the standard ones that could be bought.

Cygnus gestured for Harry to come out by the window and Harry scampered out of the bookstore to meet up with his adopted father. Cygnus took his hand and led him towards the bank, holding the empty trunk that he was planning on warding.

The minute Cygnus entered the bank, a goblin approached him. Cygnus gave a smile to the goblin and spoke.

"Morning, Nagnok. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to help us," Cygnus said, smiling at the goblin.

The goblin, Nagnok, nodded back at the ward specialist. "And to you, Cygnus. You're here to withdraw gold, I assume?"

"For young mister Harry, here," Cygnus said, nodding. "Do you think we could get in touch with the Potter's vault holder?"

"Griphook will be happy to assist you once he's finished with our customer," Nagnok said, nodding. "May your vault continue to flow with gold."

"May you be blessed with the riches of the world," Cygnus replied. The goblin seemed pleased with this response and walked past them to assist another goblin with his gold. Harry looked up at Cygnus.

"You work with these people, dad?"

"That's right," Cygnus said, nodding at his ward. "I work with the goblins at Gringotts. I know most of the goblin's names and their customs." He ignored the bustle and pulled Harry away from the door so he wouldn't block it. "A lot of people don't treat goblins properly, Harry. Remember, goblins are people too. They have feelings and personalities. They're very clever. So be nice, alright?"

Harry nodded eagerly, grinning up at his father as he waited for their turn. Cygnus was humming under his breath, a tune that calmed Harry's nerves and had him relaxing against his father. Griphook took a few minutes longer before he was ready to help them.

"Come along," Griphook said, grinning at them, showing off his many sharp pointy teeth. Cygnus smiled at him and spoke.

"Thank you for taking time out of your busy work day to assist us, Griphook," Cygnus said, nodding.

"It's not a big problem," Griphook returned. "Young Mister Potter needs to claim his vault before we withdraw money."

"Harry, they'll need a blood sample from you," Cygnus explained. "It won't be much. Just a few drops."

"Er… well, okay," Harry said, getting apprehensive. "It… won't hurt, right?"

"It will sting, but it should stop bleeding soon after," Cygnus confirmed. "Don't worry. I'll be here to hold your hand." He smiled reassuringly at Harry, but Harry didn't seem to relax at all.

Griphook grinned at Cygnus and headed to a private room. Harry sat down on the empty chair in front of the desk and waited, looking up at Cygnus. Cygnus looked at Griphook.

"We would also like to see a copy of the Potter's will and a statement of his vaults. I have been receiving money for his care, as per the stipend every month, but I have not used it. As a result, I would like to open another account," Cygnus stated, looking at the goblin. Griphook nodded, showing off his impressive teeth.

"Anything for our warding specialist."

-0-

Cygnus had Harry go buy his own books while he completed finances with Griphook and Gringotts. Harry had finished buying his books when he decided to go to get fitted for robes. He stepped up on the stool and a blond haired boy turned to him.

"Hogwarts too?"

Harry glanced at him and nodded. "Yes. And yourself?"

"Yes. I think I'm going to be in Slytherin. What about you?" The blond asked. Harry looked at him blinking slowly.

"I don't know. I was mostly homeschooled in magic by my dad," he said, feeling kind of foolish.

The blond grinned. "He's magic too, right? What about your mum?"

"Never knew her," Harry said, shrugging.

"Half. That's not so bad," the boy commented. Harry blinked at him.

"Am I right in saying that you're from one of the old pureblood lines then?" Harry asked, looking at the boy.

"That's right! My name is Draco Malfoy," the boy said, a sneer on his face. Harry returned it with a grim smile.

"Right then. So could you explain to me why the older pureblood lines don't like muggle borns? I'm a bit lost on that. I mean, magic is magic right? It's not like magic cares whether you have two parents who are muggles or not," Harry said, looking at Draco. "My dad says that old traditions aren't something exclusive to magicals. Muggles have traditions too and they've lasted years and years."

Draco seemed to be at loss. But then he straightened up and said, "Mudbloods don't understand old traditions like we do. The magical ones, anyway. Every time they try, they just make a mockery of our culture."

"Oh. Well, I suppose I can agree with you there. But that would be solved if we just taught it to them, right?" Harry asked, looking at Draco curiously. "After all, it's not really their fault if they never grew up around it."

Draco sneered. "Then it wouldn't be excusive to purebloods."

"Why should it be? It's not like magic cares whether you're pure or not. If you have it, then you have it. My dad says that in Asia, people don't care about blood status. It's what you do with it that really matters," Harry said, watching Madam Malkin arrive to set him up.

"Your dad is from Asia?" Draco asked, blinking, surprised.

"Yes," Harry responded. "Can you ask your dad for me? Maybe he'd know why it is that purebloods don't like muggle borns. I think muggles have made some really useful stuff."

"A muggle lover then?" The sneer was clear on Draco's face. Harry laughed.

"No. Someone who just likes to take advantage of the situation," Harry said. "Why isolate myself when there is a whole world I can take advantage of without them being any wiser?"

Draco had a contemplative look on his face when Harry was proclaimed done. Harry grinned and hopped off the stool.

"Before you ridicule muggles, remember that they have survived this long in a world _without magic_," Harry said, wagging his finger. "For that reason, they are quite adaptive to their situation. They can be quite clever in their own right, just like some wizards and witches can be quite stupid in their own right."

Harry left the shop, feeling accomplished. A confused Draco remained inside, staring at him as Cygnus walked up to Harry. Lucius Malfoy entered and Draco looked at him.

"Father? Who was that man with long white hair who just met up with the black haired kid?"

Lucius glanced out the clear window and then looked back at his son.

"I do not know."

-0-

Harry smiled a little, watching Cygnus browse through Flourish and Blott's rune section before shaking his head in exasperation.

"This don't go anywhere beyond basic level. Do you have anything more advanced? Those that use blood magic and rituals?" Cygnus asked, looking at the woman tending the counter.

The entire bookstore hushed. People were staring at Cygnus like he had grown a second head or said something horribly offensive.

"What?" Cygnus asked, raising his eyebrows at them.

"That's… really Dark Magic," the woman stammered. "You're better off looking for something like that in Knockturn Alley."

"Dark magic? Really?" Cygnus shot the saleswoman a disbelieving look. "I'll never understand British Magicals. They're like a whole other species that I can't identify. Magic is magic. There is nothing inherently good about the levitation spell just like there is nothing inherently bad about blood rituals. For your information, I am searching blood rituals for warding purposes."

The shop seemed to relax at that, giving a soft laugh. The woman shook her head, smiling lightly.

"In that case, you can reach Knockturn Alley by going through the crack in the wall off Diagon. It's not too far from here," the woman replied. "You're foreign?"

"Came from Taiwan ten years ago," Cygnus grunted. "Visited Diagon once in that time. This is my second visit." He gestured Harry to pick up his books. "Go on, Harry. I'll wait for you and then we can head to Knockturn together."

"Really, so you've been living in the muggle world then?" a man asked, looking a bit relieved. "That's great! I'm a muggle and am still trying to wrap my head around the idea that this magic exists."

Cygnus glanced at him, and noted his wife next to him, whispering about books with what he assumed was her daughter. He sighed. "Magic is so _segregated_ in Britain. It's actually really troublesome for me. In Taiwan, magic is a part of daily life. We don't have robes and owls. I hate the robes." He gestured to his dress shirt and pants.

The man laughed. "I quite agree with you on that. So how do they communicate?" The man's wife and daughter stood in line so they could purchase their items.

"With phone and internet. Like regular non-magicals," Cygnus said flatly. "We've also forgone parchment for actual paper. The magical properties in parchment aren't worth the cost of producing so we've given up on that. Same with _quills_ and _ink_. We use pens and pencils. Any complex ward work I do is with brush and ink."

"But that's not possible!" the man's daughter burst out. "Electronics don't work in magical range."

"Just because the British have not found a way to do it doesn't mean it's impossible, child," Cygnus said patiently, unwilling to snap at a young girl. "That being said, if they stopped being so bloody reclusive and worked together with non-magicals instead of trying to hide from them, they'd have things done a lot faster."

"How do the magicals in Asia explain magic to the non-magicals?" the man asked, looking quite interested.

"We don't. We don't flaunt it off and don't tell our non-magical neighbors," Cygnus said. "They don't need to know, so we don't tell them. Our government is pretty synonymous with theirs so it doesn't matter. 'It's classified' usually works for any prying noses. And those who do find out… well, who would believe them? An upstanding citizen in Taipei doing _magic_ is pretty unbelievable."

The man let out a small laugh. Cygnus watched as Harry paid for his books and even got a few more for leisure reading.

"Ready to go?" Cygnus asked. The man tapped him on the shoulder and added.

"By the way, here's my number. My name is Granger. That's how they do it in Asia, right? Last name first?" Mr. Granger said, extending a hand and a business card.

"That's right," Cygnus said, extending his own. "Rowan's my name. I'd give you my business card, but Gringotts don't give those out. So I'll give you my number instead."

Cygnus left the bookstore with Harry, feeling quite accomplished. Harry laughed at the look his dad was giving the business card.

"Feeling like you need to get some now?" Harry asked, looking amused. "What would you put on it for your job? 'Ward Specialist'?"

Cygnus laughed. "I bet that would attract a lot of unwanted attention." He looked at his ward and gestured for him to follow him into Knockturn.

Harry looked around at the supposedly 'Dark' books as Cygnus browsed the runes section.

"Well, well, a little boy shouldn't be here all by himself," a soft voice whispered right behind Harry. Harry turned to see a long fingered woman reaching towards him. "Lost dearie? I can help you find out where you need to go." Her fingers grasped the edge of his sleeve.

Harry gave a low sigh and snapped his fingers, willing the wards surrounding his cloak to trap the woman and hold her in place. Green chains shot out of the ground and wrapped around her figure, snapping her arms to her sides and causing her to topple unsteadily.

"Not lost. Don't touch me. My dad would have your head if you tried anything," Harry said shortly. "My cloak is warded to stop any potential kidnapping. Don't try it, or the next ward that will be set off is my dad's. As it is, mine is rather harmless. My dad's, on the other hand, is quite powerful and will do some serious damage to your person."

The woman gave a feeble nod and Harry willed his ward to drop on the woman. She scampered away murmuring about brats and how ungrateful they were. Harry did feel a little bad for doing that to her—she might have actually wanted to help—but his dad always did warn him about crazy people.

"That is some unique warding techniques I have never seen before," a cool, smooth voice said.

Harry turned to see the blond boy and who Harry presumed to be the blond boy's father. The blond boy shot his father a smile, but his father was looking at Harry with interest.

"I told you father, that even though he's a half-blood, he's a respectable one!" the boy said proudly. The father nodded a little.

"Yes, Draco, you did indeed say something along those lines," Draco's father said, smiling at his son. "Where would such a young boy learn such a powerful warding technique though? I am curious to find out."

Harry smiled at Draco and looked at his father. "My dad taught me. He helped me set up the wards on my cloak."

"Indeed," the man said, looking at Harry with a glint of approval in his eye. "And what does your dad do, exactly?"

"He is a ward specialist for Gringotts Bank," Harry answered proudly, glad that he could tell someone the whole truth instead of adapting to the muggle term of "he works in a bank". "What about your father, Draco? What does he do?"

"My father works in the Ministry," Draco said proudly. The boy's father gave his son an approving look and nodded.

"So, why is it that your father has… abandoned you here, young boy?"

Harry frowned a little. "Not abandoned. My dad's over there looking at the Rune section. He said the one in Flourish and Blotts was basic level and he wanted to go more into blood rituals. So they directed us here."

Both Malfoys seemed to approve of this and they gave each other a pleased look.

"Really?" the elder Malfoy seemed intrigued with this. "That's very interesting…"

"Harry, there's only intermediate stuff here," Cygnus sighed, walking out from the shelves. "I guess I'll just have to ask the Taiwanese Embassy to send me some. Oh, a new friend?"

Malfoy senior extended a hand. "Lucius Malfoy. A pleasure."

Cygnus blinked at the hand, but then took it. "Cygnus Rowan. Likewise."

"And this is your son?" Lucius asked, looking down at Harry. "Harry, was it?"

"That's right," Cygnus said, dropping the handshake. "And your son's name?"

"Draco," Lucius said, nodding. "It was a pleasure to meet you, but we really must be going."

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Harry," Draco said, waving at Harry. Harry waved back and Cygnus watched them leave. Harry turned to Cygnus.

"You know, I don't think I liked them very much. They seemed a little too stuffy and high for my taste," Harry commented. Cygnus laughed, ruffling Harry's hair.

"They did, didn't they?" Cygnus said calmly. "Still, it would be best not to get on their bad side. Politics is a pain to deal with." He smiled a little and looked down at Harry. "I found out something worry some while I was at Gringotts."

"Worry some?" Harry asked.

"This is not the right place to talk about it. So let's head home," Cygnus said softly, looking around. "It's something that the goblins assured me they could fix, provided we took the correct actions."

-0-

"As you know, you are not my blood child. You were adopted," Cygnus started, over a mug of tea. Harry looked at him, nodding along, holding an identical mug of tea. They had traveled back home to Surrey and were sitting in their living room. "I am your adopted father. The day I found you, quite literally on my doorstep, I was visited by a man."

Cygnus looked up at Harry. "This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. He is headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "But… But why would he have been here? Why would he have cared where I had gone?"

"He seemed to take it upon himself that their _savior_ was placed with his only living relatives," Cygnus answered. "You were supposed to go to your mother's sister. Your Aunt."

"So… Why didn't I?" Harry asked.

"Well, she seemed to think that moving away was a better option than moving you in the house. Which goes to show what kind of person she is," Cygnus answered. "You are young. But I know that this is something you need to know before you set foot in Hogwarts. I cannot put telling you off any longer since you'll be leaving in a month.

"Albus said some things that, quite frankly, worried me a little. He said he was going to take care of the paperwork for your adoption and he also mentioned that you were the only one able to defeat the Dark Lord, or Tom Riddle," Cygnus continued. "In other words, his intention was to make you his child weapon."

Harry was frozen stiff where he sat, his eyes wide and his mouth open in an uncomprehending 'O'. Cygnus sighed, looking up at him.

"Albus knew that I was not someone from this country. He knew of my wards," Cygnus said. "Over the years, I can conclude he simply agreed to the adoption because he knew that, had he refused, I would have moved back to Taiwan, taken you with me, and adopted you there. Taiwan magical adoption is much easier than the UK's. In Taiwan culture, one must be either a blood parent, or have successfully protected and shared magic with the child for a minimum of one year to be considered a parent. As such, my wards would have concealed us until the year was up."

Harry's hands had dropped from the cup and he was staring at Cygnus in shock.

"In that regard, in Taiwan magical law, I am considered your father legally and magically," Cygnus said, nodding. "I have, unfortunately, forgotten to check the UK magical adoption law. As it turns out, all orphans become a ward of the Headmaster. And you, though adopted in the non-magical world, are an orphan in the magical one."

"So… you're saying that the Headmaster… has control over me?" Harry asked, blinking. "But… Isn't Albus Dumbledore supposed to be the good person?"

Cygnus gave him a grim smile. "His actions speak louder than his words though, don't they? He is a pretty powerful manipulative player. But he has overlooked several key factors.

"He is correct that I am not a citizen, well, was not a citizen when I adopted you. Therefore, I was unable to claim you under Magical law in the UK standards," Cygnus said. "However, I have claimed you, rather successfully, in Taiwanese Magical standards. That is enough to say that, if we ever moved back to Taiwan, you would be recognized as my son.

"Second, Albus underestimates me. As I am an employee of Gringotts, the Ministry is forced to comply to Gringotts wishes. Gringotts has recognized me as your legal guardian, both magical and non-magical, due to the magic sharing when I bottle fed you as a baby. Gringotts simply didn't know that the Ministry had continued to list you as an orphan.

"Third, by listing you as an orphan, and thus a ward of the Headmaster, he has had access to your account funds," Cygnus said softly.

"He's been taking my money?!" Harry squeaked.

"No. He knows that I work at Gringotts and would have venomously fought him placing a single finger on your money. But the problem is, he has locked away your money and refuses access to you or to me. This would be problematic if we move back to Taiwan, because then the money you had would have been transferred over to him," Cygnus explained. "And it is, a lot of money. More than enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. But those vaults also contain artifacts passed down in your family bloodline, the Potters. Putting them in Albus' hands would be very dangerous."

Harry slowly sank back in his chair. He rubbed his head and whispered, "Can't you do something about it?"

"I will be working on it," Cygnus promised. "But before I can adopt you in the magical world, all three of the options that were listed in your parent's will needs to be unable to care for you. I will be doing research on these three." He gave a small smile. "I will take care of it. Don't worry about it. I am telling you this because I want to keep you aware of the external situation. Go to Hogwarts, have fun, but don't forget to watch yourself around Dumbledore. He isn't who he says he is. Keep an open mind and don't forget to keep an eye out. Ward yourself when necessary. Mind magic is not illegal in the UK, so he might attempt something. Remember the meditation techniques I taught you? Use them often.

"He may be limiting your mail, limiting my contact with you. He may try slipping you something, which is typically illegal, but as he is your magical guardian, it is not," Cygnus said softly. "You need to keep a sharp eye out."

Harry flinched. "Is it too late to withdraw?"

Cygnus sighed. "I would assume that, even if you had, Albus would attempt to force you into it regardless, using his powers as your magical guardian."

Harry nodded and sighed. Cygnus placed his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'll do my best to find a way around this problem. Trust me, okay?" Cygnus murmured.

"Okay, Dad."

-0-

"Hey, Dad?"

Cygnus looked up at his son and then at King's Cross station. Platform nine and three quarters should be around here. They just needed to find it. It was only ten, so they were still quite early.

"Yes?" Cygnus asked, placing his hand on Harry's back to guide him.

"Why don't you get me a cell phone. You know, those that can be used in magical areas that you used to ward?" Harry asked, looking at Cygnus. Cygnus sighed.

"Taiwan is an island, son. The entire island has a ward that allows the use of technology, regardless of where they are," Cygnus replied. "To use a cellphone in Hogwarts, you must have a warded cellphone and a warded castle. Which wizards and witches will never agree to because it would cause them to break their tradition."

"Ah… I see," Harry seemed down about it. Cygnus looked at him and sighed.

"I'll look into it. But I'm fairly sure it's impossible until someone allows the wards to be shifted," Cygnus said, nodding.

Harry nodded back and stopped in front of platform nine and ten. Cygnus nodded to him and waved at him to get going. The wards were quite easy to spot.

"I'll see you later," Cygnus said, placing a hand on Harry's head. "Be careful out there."

Harry gave Cygnus one last hug before running into the barrier. Cygnus looked at the place where Harry had vanished, then turned to the snowy owl on his shoulder.

"Hedwig… protect him, okay?"

The snowy owl screeched and soared up into the bright blue sky. Cygnus turned away.

-0-

Harry looked up at the large smoking steam train in surprise. He smiled, wheeling his items onto the train and pulling his trunk up so he could stack it in the compartment overhead. Then he sat down on the empty seat and looked back outside. Since he was early, Cygnus had insisted on him bringing a book.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was swirling his tea gently without pulling away from the depths of his science fiction novel. The tea swished inside the clear container and his eyes remained firmly on the pages. The hustle and bustle caused by the oncoming students was getting louder and louder. Harry paused in his book when it became too loud and placed a bookmark inside to wait for the noise to die down.

He glanced at his tea and then wandlessly pulled a packet of sugar down from the front pocket of his trunk, tearing it open and dumping it in his tea. Then he picked up his tea and sipped it lightly, thinking about Hogwarts and Albus Dumbledore.

He didn't even notice the door was open and a bushy haired girl staring at him.

"You… you…!" she stammered. "You _can't_ do that! Wandless, non-verbal magic! At your age?!"

Harry looked up at her and gave her a smile. "Oh! It's you. My dad met yours in Flourish and Blotts, right? Granger?"

"Hermione Granger," she said in a daze. "Only the strongest wizards should be able to do what you just did! How?!"

"I've practiced with my dad since I was very little. My dad said it would help me control my magic so I wouldn't have any accidental outbursts in non-magical areas," Harry responded. "Nice to meet you. My name is Harry. Harry Potter-Rowan."

"Are you really?!" She seemed excited now. "Did you know that you're in several books?"

"I did," Harry said, nodding. "I also know that you shouldn't believe everything written in books." He smiled, sipping his tea again. "You've never learned to control your magic?"

Hermione gave him a strange look. "Not really. We're not allowed to do magic out of Hogwarts."

"How do you stop yourself from letting off accidental magic?" Harry asked.

"Well, I don't. The Ministry comes and makes things alright though," Hermione said, taking a seat and shutting the door. "Ah, but the Asian Ministry doesn't obliviate people anymore, so they?"

"It's a heavy crime to scramble people's brain," Harry said, nodding. "My dad doesn't feel like it's right to mess with anyone's brain, muggle or magical alike. He also finds the term 'muggle' rather degrading. In Asia, they call them non-magicals."

"Your dad sounds smart," Hermione said, nodding. "Err… but he's not your real dad, is he?"

"Adopted," Harry answered, nodding. "What do your parents do?"

"Oh… They're both dentists."

The door opened again and Draco Malfoy glanced in. "Oh! It's you. Harry, right?"

Harry nodded and gestured for Draco to sit down. "Hello Draco. Go ahead and take a seat. Did you ever ask your dad about it?"

Draco nodded and spoke, "The reason pureblood families don't like muggles or muggleborns is because the Ministry does absolutely everything in their power to appease them while banning our traditions as 'Dark'. It's really nothing to do with the muggles or muggleborns themselves."

"Okay, so it's the government, the Ministry at fault. Thanks," Harry said, nodding.

Hermione blinked. "Ah, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Draco Malfoy. Are you a friend of Harry's?" Draco asked.

"We met in Diagon Alley," Hermione said, nodding. "Malfoy. Are you really? I read that you're part of the Pureblood house of Lords."

Draco puffed up in pride and Harry smiled. "That's right! I haven't heard a Granger on the list though. Or a Rowan." He glanced at Harry and Harry shrugged.

"Rowan isn't on the list because my dad's from Taiwan," Harry said calmly. "Though Rowan isn't a Taiwanese surname either. I wonder how that came about."

"I'm the first witch in my family," Hermione explained. Draco nodded slowly and looked at Harry.

"So, Rowan, have you thought about which house you'll be in?" Draco asked. "You've read more about Hogwarts, right?"

"I think Ravenclaw would suit me, though rumor has it Dumbledore was in Gryffindor." Hermione chimed in, looking at Harry.

Harry thought about it before nodding slowly. "I think I would do well in Slytherin or Ravenclaw."

Hermione gave him a grin. "And you, Draco?"

"Slytherin, of course," Draco said, grinning. "My whole family was in Slytherin."

"Wow," Harry said. "I suppose the traits of Slytherin all run in your family then."

"We're Malfoys. Of course they do!"

-0-

_**A/N: Read and review!**_


	3. The Southern Cross

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 3: Southern Cross**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: This is in response to hwyla: You're right in saying that texting and such weren't invented in 1980s. I totally forgot about that point. I try to do as much research as possible, but this little point seems to have slipped my mind. Thanks for pointing it out. I'll correct it. I'll try to keep my technology straight, though it's hard considering what we have today compared to what we had 30 years ago. I wasn't alive 30 years ago so…**_

_**I totally need a beta. If someone could recommend someone good or themselves, that would be great…**_

-0-

Severus Snape was certain he was going to hate James Potter's spawn, even before he met him.

It did occur to him that, perhaps he wasn't being fair. After all, the child had done nothing to him. Not personally, anyway. Nothing that he could have prevented or stopped. But he couldn't help but picture in his mind the perfect carbon copy of James Potter. Rumor had it, Harry Potter had his mother's eyes.

Snape looked down at his plate, ignoring the quivering Quirrell. The students had started to arrive, but the First Years were still crossing the lake. Tradition and all.

"Severus, don't look so down," Dumbledore said gently. "Harry Potter will be joining us this year."

Snape sent the Headmaster a deep glare and turned away from him in disgust. Dumbledore chuckled and sipped from his glass, leaving Snape to brood over the mystery of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore had told them that he had dropped off Harry with his aunt. Knowing Petunia, Snape knew that the child would not have had a happy childhood. The child might have actually been abused. It wouldn't have been the first time that the Headmaster had purposefully sent an orphan back to their place of abuse.

Still, there was always the possibility that Petunia grew up like a normal person and treated young Potter like a normal kid. Snape kind of doubted it, but the possibility was there.

On the other hand, it was also possible that the little brat was just as spoiled as his father. No mannered, absolutely no regard for authority, no respect whatsoever…

The Great Hall doors swung open. Snape glared at the first year students, trying to spot the messy head of James Potter that would have indeed belonged to his son.

To his great surprise, it was missing. Snape's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he scanned the crowd again. There were no carbon copies of James Potter in the crowd of students. While that was odd, it wasn't definite. Perhaps the boy simply grew up to resemble his mother more. Snape wasn't sure if that was better or worse than being a carbon copy of James Potter.

Snape gripped his robes tightly, frowning a little. Well, perhaps the little brat was just hidden in the crowd and he had missed him. He would get to see him when he came up to be sorted, after all.

Watching Minerva go through the list every year was a bore, but he did note, with some pride, that Draco Malfoy went into Slytherin. Hermione Granger, on the other hand, went to Ravenclaw.

Snape was jerked out of his daze when Minerva called out, "Potter-Rowan, Harry!"

A boy stepped up towards the front of the stool. To Snape's surprise, he looked nothing like Lily or James. His robes were neat and tidy, his hair was as black as the night sky, though as the candle light flickered, Snape could see several strands of silver in the black. It was shoulder length, but pulled back in a high ponytail, tied with a red ribbon. Someone had cut bangs for the child, as it was covering his scar and framing the young boy's face. Grudgingly, Snape admitted that it looked very good on the boy.

His hands were slim and slender, a mark of someone who didn't do much manual labor, but wrote a lot. His face was full and his skin unblemished. His wrists were thicker than his classmates though, which made Snape wonder what the child had been doing. And those eyes… Merlin, Lily's green eyes were bright, but her child's seemed to be glowing.

The way that Potter strode to the stool was graceful. Not a hint of fidgeting or a finger of wasted movement. Snape was tempted to say that the boy was practicing some sort of martial art. Potter's shoes made very little noise on the marble floor of the Great Hall, despite the soles being made of rubber and plastic. He had glasses on, but they were almost invisible on his face.

Potter sat on the stool, letting Minerva settle the hat over his head and eyes. There was a long silence, one which Snape held his breath for. This wasn't James Potter's son. Nor was it Lily's son. This was someone else entirely.

_Oh Petunia. What have you done to this child?_ Snape thought, feeling a little light headed. The brim of the Sorting Hat opened and a word was shouted throughout the hall.

"_**SLYTHERIN!**_"

Snape gaped. _No! No! That was impossible! James Potter—the perfect embodiment of a Gryffindor. His son is a Slytherin?!_

But apparently, it was. Snape watched as Minerva removed the hat and Harry slid off the stool to join his classmates at the Slytherin table. The Slytherins seemed quite disgruntled as well, but most of the first years still gave him a polite nod. Only Draco Malfoy seemed wholeheartedly welcoming Harry into the Snake's den, grinning and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Snape had to take several deep breaths to calm himself. _Okay. Okay. So Potter was a Slytherin. He could get through this. I can get through this. This is only for the next seven years…_

_Merlin, seven years with his worst enemy's son!_

Snape took a discrete look at the Headmaster's chair. Dumbledore seemed shocked stiff, as if he couldn't believe it. Then the Headmaster seemed to gather his wits and sigh in resignation before nodding a little. Snape snorted into his hand.

It was then that Potter's name really hit him. Did Minerva really say "_Potter-Rowan_"? Who was Rowan? And why did Potter take his last name? And why did Petunia let the child dye only several strands of his hair silvery white? What was she thinking?!

Granted, it didn't look terrible on the child. Snape watched as Harry smiled at something Draco whispered to him and then reached back to untie his hair. The black curtain of hair fell past the boy's shoulder blades, silvery white strands appearing like stars in the black night sky. Then the boy retied his hair up, nodding at Draco and looking back at the sorting.

Snape looked at Minerva as she rejoined the staff table after the sorting before leaning towards her. "Why does Potter have two last names?"

Minerva blinked and said, "I assume it's because he wanted to take it after the wizard who adopted him finalized every—wait, you weren't there for the meeting."

Snape looked at her blankly and then waited for the Feast to start so he could continue questioning her. Once the food was on the table, he turned back to her.

"No. I wasn't. So what happened?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "And why does Potter look so… different than his father or his mother?"

"Well, the no good Aunt of his made a run for it," Minerva said. "And the wizard that moved in her house saw Harry and decided to take him in."

"I thought we were trying to keep him away from his fame," Snape said blankly.

"When I visited, the man seemed to be foreign. He was fixing his mailbox, repeating "Ah-yah, not enough wood" the muggle way, which made sense I suppose, since he was living in a muggle neighborhood. Harry was weeding the garden and calling his dad over to look at the flowers that bloomed," Minerva said calmly.

"What did his dad look like?" Snape asked, taking a slice of chicken and drowning it in gravy.

"White hair… whiter than newly fallen snow. Pale complexion. He had dark eyes though," Minerva said while taking some mashed potatoes. "He had a fine build for a young man. Slim and muscular. Strangely enough, he didn't carry a wand on his person. I caught no sign of a wand holster or a wand sticking out of any of his pockets."

"How do you know he's a wizard then? He could be a muggle," Snape said, a sneer on his face as he cut up his chicken.

"Anyone who can wordlessly and wandlessly open the front door in an unsuspecting muggle community can be nothing less than an advanced wizard," Minerva said. Her voice dropped and she whispered, "I haven't told Albus this, but I've visited them more than once. The things that man is capable of are unbelievable. He mentioned the wards to young Harry, but he glanced at me more than once, as if he knew I was listening. He also invited me more than once into his home, though I never went in. He performed all sorts of magic without a wand and without speaking. It was truly incredible."

Snape raised his eyebrow and looked at Harry, who seemed to be quite unhurried in his meal, compared to his mess housemates. Draco was following Harry's example, though Goyle and Crabbe seemed to be stuffing their face as if it would all disappear.

"Is he really that incredible?" Snape asked.

"Quite. And I look forward to see Mr. Potter-Rowan in my class. If you're curious, you can go visit Mr. Potter-Rowan's father. It wouldn't be that unusual for their head of house to visit their family," Minerva said. "I think Mr. Rowan had done a fine job in raising young Harry. Though I wonder why the Sorting Hat put Mr. Potter-Rowan in Slytherin."

"I wonder too," Snape said, sighing.

Perhaps it would do him good to see where Mr. Potter had been living.

-0-

When Snape arrived in Privet Drive, he sneered at the cookie cutter houses and the plainness of it all. Still, in this plain neighborhood, one would never guess that the person living in one of the houses was a wizard. It was Monday evening, and he didn't have any classes Tuesday, so he was well equipped for visiting.

He approached number four warily. Minerva had mentioned wards, so, understandably, he was cautious. What kind of wards were they? What did they do? Were they painful? He gave a sigh and knocked twice at the door, waiting for an answer.

A light turned on somewhere in the house and the door opened. Snape came face-to-face with the man who raised Harry Potter.

"I am here… to speak about Harry Potter-_Rowan_," Snape gritted out, trying to remain polite. He took in the man's stark white hair and his slim appearance. The wizard was wearing muggle clothes, a rather nice deep red dress shirt and white pants. He was barefoot, but that was hardly unusual.

"Come in then. He hasn't done anything insane, has he? He's only been there for a day," the man said tiredly, stepping back so Snape could enter. "Please remove your shoes. I have just washed the floors."

Snape stepped into the house, feeling a jolt run through his body. He looked surprised at the doorway. So that was one of the wards Minerva spoke about? He removed his shoes and placed them on a shoe rack before stepping into the house with his socks.

Strangely, the man's feet made no noise on the polished wooden floors. The man turned to him and said, "Tea?" Snape noted his eyes were actually black or brown.

"Please," Snape said. The man directed him towards a chair in the living room and Snape sat, marveling at the simple, but tasteful decorations. The rug and couches had an oriental flair, the picture frames were made of some kind of reddish wood, and the table was made out of a simple light oak. Still, put together, it was a very cozy home.

Snape looked at the pictures on the wall above the fireplace. There was one of Harry when he was a baby, playing with some kind of muggle toy. Another of Rowan sitting with Harry at a restaurant when Harry appeared to be six or seven. And a third of Harry wearing a deep green oriental outfit with silver flowers embroidered into the fabric. Harry appeared to be around ten.

Snape inspected the table. It was round, smooth, and polished, with lightly curved feet. Then he turned his head to look at the fireplace.

The fire was missing, but since it was warm in the house, Snape found that it didn't bother him.

All in all, it didn't look like a wizard's house at all. It looked like a muggle house.

Rowan returned to the living room, levitating a tea set while holding a plate of rice crackers. With a simple wave of his hand, the tea set lowered itself onto the round table. Rowan placed the rice crackers on the table as well, then waved his hand again.

Snape watched in astonishment as the teapot poured out tea without spilling a single drop directly in one of the teacups.

"Do you take milk or sugar in your black tea?" Rowan asked.

"No," Snape replied. Rowan waved his hand again and the teacup and saucer flew towards Snape. Snape caught it and looked at the handle, unsure.

"So, what have you come for?" Rowan asked. "You never answered my question. What has Harry done?"

"Nothing, as of yet," Snape replied. "I merely came to see the living conditions of the child in my house. He was sorted into Slytherin. My name is Severus Snape."

Rowan seemed unsurprised at this. He poured out another cup of tea wandlessly and picked it up. "Cygnus Rowan is my name." He sipped the tea and sighed a little. "Do you usually come to see the living conditions of your students?"

"No," Snape said honestly. "But I was just so… surprised by how he is. He resembles you a bit."

Now that Snape looked at Rowan, he could see some similarities. The shape of the face, the hair, the build… Perhaps it could be explained by Potter's diet.

"And my colleague tells me of a man who can perform wandless, non-verbal magic," Snape said. "I wanted to confirm this myself."

Rowan gave him a smile. "I see. Is it truly that unusual to perform wandless, non-verbal magic? I haven't used a wand since I was a child. And there are no specific incantations that I had learned as a child, so I suppose my silence is a part of my upbringing."

"In Britain, you'd be lucky to find just one," Snape said, nodding. "I was also told you could set up wards."

Rowan didn't reply at first, looking down at his tea. "I can. You passed one of my wards when you entered."

"How safe are they?" Snape asked.

Rowan smiled. It was a smile that was neither humorous nor sad. It was a resigned smile. Snape hesitated and was just about to retract his question before Rowan replied.

"That is to say, you with to test them? You wish to test me? My ability to protect Harry? Were you sent by Albus Dumbledore then?" Rowan asked.

Snape hesitated again before nodding. "If I may?"

Rowan nodded a little before saying, "My house wards prevents magic from getting out and magic from coming in. It prevents unwelcome intruders. There is a legend that a vampire cannot enter unless invited. I invited you, so you could enter. Well, if you weren't invited and attempted to force your way in, it would have not been pretty."

He stood and beckoned Snape to follow. "I have Harry train with his magic in our training room. He works every day, at six PM sharp, on his magic until dinner." Rowan opened a door and gestured Snape in before turning on the lights.

The ground and walls were all made of wood. Oak, Snape would have guessed. In addition, the walls had some type of ink written on it in words that Snape had never seen before.

"I finished reapplying the wards this morning. You may test them. Try breaking down the walls of this training room," Rowan said, casually. He placed a hand on the wall and the runes shined brightly before sinking into the walls of the training room.

"In any way I would like?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows at Rowan. Rowan returned the gesture.

"In any way you would like," Rowan confirmed. "This room is separated from my house, so if it does catch on fire… somehow… then the house will not burn down with it. But be my guest. Anyway you would like."

Two hours later, an exhausted Snape later, and a relatively amused Rowan later, Snape grudgingly admitted that the wards were very strong. Most magic dissipated before even hitting the wall and the magic that did get through hit a second ward, shattering into thousands of pieces. Snape turned to the doorway, where Rowan had been standing, and found it empty. Rowen must have gotten bored with watching him fling hexes and curses towards the wall and gone back to the living room.

To Snape's surprise, when he arrived back in the living room, he found Rowan lightly dozing in a chair. Snape hesitated before placing his hand on Rowan's shoulder, lightly shaking him. Rowan gave a soft "hm?" and looked up, his eyes sleepy.

"I have finished testing them. They seem sufficient," Snape said.

Rowan nodded before stretching and getting up off the chair. "You're leaving then?"

"Quite," Snape said, a frown on his face. Rowan nodded and gestured to the front door.

"Have a safe trip then," Rowan said, waving him out.

It wasn't until Snape was back in the village of Hogsmead did he recall that he had forgotten to ask Rowan why Potter looked so much like him.

-0-

Snape was not looking forwards to Potions on Friday.

It wasn't so much Potter, that it was the Gryffindor/Slytherin class. Somehow, _somehow,_ the class always got into trouble.

He was pleased to note that Rowan had warded Potter's trunk from any outside intrusions. Snape wasn't blind. He was fairly sure that someone had tried to do something to Potter's trunk or sleeping area. Potter seemed oblivious to the animosity of his housemates, though Rowan seemed to know, or at least, was prepared for such a thing.

Snape was half glad that Rowan was so cautious. This surely reduced the stress that Potter was going to be attacked, messed with, or controlled. Especially since Quirrell had his eyes out on Potter.

Severus sighed before billowing into the classroom for his Fourth Year class. He would think about the problem with Potter later. For now, he had to make sure none of the Hufflepuffs blew up their cauldron.

On Friday, Snape had just about enough of incompetent students and their stupid experimenting techniques. Didn't they understand that potions was very dangerous and had to be exercised with extreme caution? There was no wonder that most of his class would never make it past OWL standards.

Harry Potter strode into the room, his book bag swung over his shoulder. Snape did a double take… _was that a muggle messenger bag?_

Draco walked in, side-by-side with Potter, looking wistful.

"Muggle invention? It beats carrying our books by hand," Draco was saying, looking impressed. "And adjustable too. We could probably find a spell to adjust it with magic, but since we haven't learned it yet, it would be useful to have something like that."

"My dad likes it when I have all my stuff in one place," Potter was saying. "It's easier to ward the bag than each individual item." He smiled at Draco, taking a seat in the first row, on the very left of the classroom. Draco sat next to him.

"I never knew muggles had so many things to help them with their daily lives," Draco said, nodding. "My father was a bit blown away when he walked into an Asian Magic and Muggle store. To be honest, he was a bit startled when he noticed that muggles and wizards interacted like there was no difference between them."

"It beats trying to hide," Potter said, nodding. "So was your dad impressed?"

Draco laughed. "He acted like he wasn't, but I knew he was. You should have seen the gleam in his eye when the salesman mentioned that Rowan was a well-known warding family in Taiwan. The salesman was from Taiwan too. I wouldn't be surprised if he was doing research on your dad."

"Good luck to him then. There isn't much about my dad that he could find," Potter said honestly. "He lived up in the mountains. In a house near the peak. Dad told me that he had to climb down the mountain every day to get to school and climb up the mountain every night."

"A _mountain?_" Draco asked. "What kind of insane, crazy people are your grandparents?!"

"Well, they grew winter squash. So… Yeah," Potter said nonchalantly.

"Your family is _weird,_" Draco said, looking at Potter like he was insane.

Potter laughed. "This is coming from the kid who lives in a _mansion_ and wears _robes_ on a daily bases?"

"My father always said, if you have it, than show it," Draco said indignantly. "And robes are comfortable."

"It sticks out in a crowd like a sore thumb. And why would you flaunt off your wealth so people know which house to rob?" Potter asked, amused. Draco huffed.

"Not like muggles can find our house. We don't have muggle neighbors," Draco defended.

"You don't get magical robbers?" Potter asked, impressed.

"Not since our family is known to have cursed artifacts," Draco said. "Most people avoid coming."

"Well, I suppose that's one thing," Potter relented.

"Settle down," Snape said, looking around at the students. While Draco and Potter's conversation was enlightening, they really needed to start class. Potter pulled out a notebook and a quill, setting it to the side before pulling out his potion's book too. Well, at least he was prepared.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. Potter's eyes glanced from his face to the front table where Snape had several potions on. Snape snorted before flipping open his attendance sheet and began to take role. He stopped at Potter's name.

"Ah… Mister Potter-_Rowan,_" Snape sneered, looking at the boy with distaste. The boy lifted his chin up and raised his hand.

"Yes, what is it?" Snape asked, frowning.

"Rowan is fine," Potter said, lowering his hand. "I rather like to avoid the memories that come with the name Potter."

There was a silence. The entire class held their breath. Draco elbowed Potter in the ribs as Snape surveyed him.

"And… pray tell, what memories would that be?" Snape sneered. _Surely this boy wouldn't have any memories of…_

"The memory of my mother screaming as she was hit by the killing curse, he-who-must-not-be-named laughing, and then getting hit by the killing curse myself," Potter said, in such a flat tone that caused a ripple of stunned silence. Draco gave a soft groan. It was clear that Potter had requested this of the other teachers, but Snape had been the only one to actually ask why.

Snape's mouth opened and then he shut it again, lost for words. _This boy actually remembered that?! He remembered that?!_ He collected his wits and took a deep breath. "Very well, Mr. Rowan."

"Thank you, sir," Potter—Rowan said calmly.

Snape turned to the board, feeling very drained. _Dear Merlin, this was going to be a long day._

-0-

Snape looked around at the staff meeting table, drumming his fingers on the wood. His mind was still on the Potion's class he had earlier today. Potter—Rowan seemed… so at ease speaking about the murder of his mother. Snape wondered if the child had nightmares from the incident. Perhaps he had and had approached his father about it. The elder Rowan seemed to be quite understanding.

"Mr. Rowan seemed quite insistent I called him Rowan and not Potter," Minerva said, shaking her head. "Albus, that boy is just a normal eleven year old. His spellwork was average… perhaps just a little above average when compared to his classmates. Only Ms. Granger had made any significant progress with her matchstick."

"Ah, well, you've only had one class with him, haven't you?" Albus Dumbledore reminded. "I'm sure he'll catch up soon. What about you, Severus. What have you learned from Mr. Potter?"

"Rowan," Snape corrected, feeling a chill down his spine when he heard the name Potter. "It's Mr. Rowan. And he remembers clearly the day his mother was murdered and when he got hit in the face with the killing curse. He also remembers the Dark Lord laughing. Which is why he does not like the name Potter."

The entire staffroom hushed. Sprout looked like she was going to cry and Flitwick toppled off his chair. With some level of satisfaction, Snape watched as Dumbledore's face paled until he looked as white as the elder Rowan's hair.

"Poor child," Sprout whispered, gripping her handkerchief. "He was so young when it happened. Did he seem distressed?"

"No," Snape answered honestly. "He didn't. Meaning that he has come to terms about it happening. He probably spoke about it with his father, whom I have had the pleasure to meet."

"What's he like?" Sprout asked, leaning forward, looking interested.

"He's… powerful," Snape said, hesitantly, wondering how much he should give away. "Unusual. Different. He moved here from Asia. Apparently the magical community in Asia is far more integrated with its muggle counterpart than ours is."

"I see…" Dumbledore said slowly, looking thoughtful. "I might have to do some research on the Asian Ministry. Then again, they don't like outsiders very much."

"No," Flitwick said, shaking his head. "It's better if you don't, Albus. The Asian Ministry is very closed off about its practices and traditions. Leave them be. If they want to share, then they will. Otherwise, it would be best to avoid them. Asian muggles often possess some level of spiritual awareness, which means that they can see through glamours and notice-me-not charms. And memory charms are completely out of the question in Asia. It was outlawed centuries ago."

Snape was beginning to wonder if Potter—Rowan's attitude towards robes wasn't completely unfounded. It was true that the magical community stood out like a sore thumb in comparison to their muggle counterparts. Even in Britain, some muggles did have some level of spiritual awareness and could see through charms.

Perhaps the Asian community was actually onto something by integrating with the muggle world.

"Why is that, Filius?" Sprout asked. "Why were memory charms outlawed?"

"Well, in 1745, a Ministry worker was ordered to Obliviate a muggle who had seen magic being performed. The first attempt failed. So did the second and third attempt," Flitwick squeaked. "So they sent their best obliviator. The spell did so much damage that it wiped out his memory completely with no way to restore it. His entire community collapsed. It was a really big mess to clean up." The tiny teacher gave a small smile. "So memory charms were outlawed."

"So what happens when someone does use a memory charm," Snape asked, leaning on the table, looking interested.

"No one knows. But the person who used it is never heard from again, so I would assume nothing good," Flitwick said, shrugging. "At least, the Asian Ministry has not released on what it does to people who have done something like a memory charm."

There was a tense silence and then Snape sighed.

"Moving on…"

-0-


	4. The Lynx

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 4: The Lynx**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

-0-

"Remind me why you never told me that you were Harry Potter?" Draco asked, looking at Harry unpacking his trunk. It was just after the first week of classes and Harry had adamantly refused to answer the question, so Draco had cornered Harry. "Not that I mind or anything. But it would have been nice to know."

Harry sighed and Draco added. "And before you say the excuse you told Professor Snape, don't. I know that can't be the reason."

"It is part of the reason," Harry replied. "The other part is because I don't like the fame that comes with my name. Which is why I prefer going with Rowan than Potter. Potter paints a big target on my back that I would like to avoid." He gave a small hum as he activated the wards around his bed. "Since I'm in Slytherin, and all."

"Why did the hat put you in Slytherin, anyway. I would have guessed that the famous Harry Potter would have been a Gryffindor like his parents," Draco said, sitting up and looking at Harry's trunk. "To be honest, I was shocked."

"Because I have the ambition to be in Slytherin? The drive? I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "Maybe it was because I met you and you seemed like a nice person and I wanted to be in the same house as you?" He snorted and unfolded his sleepwear, starting to strip off his robes. "I just asked the hat to put me in the house that would accept me for who I was."

"Slytherin is a terrible choice then. What the bloody hell was the hat thinking?" Draco asked, watching his friend slip on loose pants and a loose shirt.

"Was it? No one has done anything to hurt me yet," Harry said, blinking.

"Not for the lack of trying," Draco answered, watching Harry fold his clothes. "But the wards on your trunk… around your bed… even on your clothes prevents anyone from actually succeeding." Draco watched Harry flop on the pillow. "No one has been able to cross them when you're asleep. Did your dad teach you how to do it?"

"What wards?" Harry asked blankly, looking around. Draco blinked.

"You… weren't aware of them?" Draco asked. "Well, they're there and they've been keeping other people from doing nasty stuff to you."

"Ah. Dad must have put them up," Harry said, nodding. He paused and then looked at Draco. "What's your family like?"

Draco raised his eyebrows and looked towards the ceiling. "What do you mean? It's my family."

"Do you cook together and garden together? Train together? Does your dad help you with homework?" Harry asked, looking at Draco curiously.

"Cooking is for house elves," Draco said calmly. "So is gardening. My father was mostly out working. My mother taught me spells and history. Anything she couldn't teach, she would hire a tutor for."

"Hm… Sounds a bit cold," Harry said. "You don't do things as a family?"

Draco paused and then gave a "humph". "Father's always busy."

"Family is a pretty strong dynamic in Asia. I know that my dad has continuously sent money back to his family," Harry said. "Even though grandmother says that it's unnecessary. I think she secretly likes that my dad's always thinking of them."

"Your family is strange," Draco said, shaking his head. "I'm going to write a letter to my father. You go to sleep."

"Getting rid of me already?" Harry laughed, pulling the curtains shut.

Draco waited until the wards were up again by throwing a shirt, which hit the ward but didn't pass it, before starting his letter. Dipping his quill in ink, he scratched out:

_Father,_

_As you suspected, Harry Rowan was actually Harry Potter. I will continue to make friends with him in order to learn his secrets and try to learn more about his family. He mentioned that his grandparents live up on a mountain in Taiwan and didn't seem to be aware that his dad had warded his sleeping area._

_He seemed pretty attached to his family and mentioned that the elder Rowan was attached to his parents. This can be used to our advantage at a later date._

_You mentioned that skilled warding was very rare in the British community, so we should sway them to join the Dark Lord, but it might be problematic with Potter being Rowan's child. The Dark Lord might not want Potter, even if he's a warding specialist's son._

_From,_

_Draco_

Draco looked at the letter and reread it before getting to his feet to go to the Owlery. He passed Flint and Parkinson who were whispering to each other and then at Potter's bed. Draco scoffed to himself and shook his head. It looked like they hadn't given up trying to prank the Potter.

Walking out of the Common Room to the Owlery was a journey. Considering that the Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeons and the Owlery was on the top floor, Draco was seriously considering trying to persuade his father to send him a broom. By the time he got to the top floor, he was panting hard and sweating.

He swung open the door to the Owlery and looked up to try to spot his eagle owl, Hermes. Hermes swooped down with a screech and perched on the windowsill, waiting for Draco. Draco tied the letter to the owl's leg and said, "Take this to my Father".

The owl screeched again before taking off into the evening sky. Draco leaned on the windowsill, watching his owl leave and sighed. Hermes would likely be back on Sunday or Monday, considering that Malfoy Manor wasn't close to Hogwarts. That and the fact that Mother was likely to try to send a care package for him.

He turned away as Hermes winked into the skylight.

-0-

By the time Monday rolled around, Draco had completely forgotten Hermes. He was eating breakfast as the post came in. Hermes was sporting quite a large package. It landed in front of his plate, causing many people to turn their heads. Draco stared and gave a small laugh.

"Care package from home," Draco said, catching Harry's quizzical look. He almost gaped with surprise as a large golden owl flew in the hall and dropped a similar package in front of Harry. Harry laughed and nodded to Draco.

"It seems we both have care packages," he said lightly, pulling open the bow. The bow sizzled slightly before it unfolded. Harry lifted the cap and hummed, looking inside. He gave a large grin at the note and picked it up, capping the box again. He recognized his dad's neat handwriting and read it quickly.

_I took the liberty of making some snacks from home. Hope you enjoy them._

_Study hard and make me proud._

_Your dad,_

_Cygnus_

Harry opened the box again and picked up one of the individually wrapped bags. Inside was a white cracker, about twice the size of his hand.

"What's that?" Draco asked, pointing to the cookie while munching on something that looked like a pumpkin pasty.

"Rice cracker. Want to try some?" Harry asked. Draco shook his head and Harry shrugged, unwrapped the cracker, and bit into it with a loud crunch.

Harry finished the cookie before getting up and tucking the box under his arm. He looked at his friend and said, "I'm going to bring this to the dorms. I'll see you later."

Draco gave him a wave to show he had heard and Harry headed out of the Great Hall. He almost ran into Hermione, who seemed slightly surprised to see him.

"Harry! Where are you headed to?" she asked, enthusiastically. Harry smiled and gestured to the box. "Oh! Care package from home? How lucky!"

"You can have some, Hermione," Harry said, recalling that Hermione's parents probably didn't have access to an owl to be able to send a care package to her. "My dad packed homemade rice crackers, pineapple cakes, dried flaky rolls, and candied strawberries." He watched Hermione's eyes go wide and laughed a little.

"Wow! Your dad can make all of that?" Hermione asked, surprised. Harry nodded.

"He learned from a friend in Taiwan," Harry replied. He opened the box and held it out for her to select a couple. "Here. Your choice. The golden square ones are pineapple cakes, the long rolls are dried flakey rolls, the red ones are the candied strawberries, and the white round things are the rice crackers."

Hermione peered into the box and looked at Harry. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"Of course," Harry assured her. Hermione blinked and took one of each, looking quite touched.

"Oh, thank you Harry! I really appreciate it," she said, looking estatic.

"So how has your first week been?" Harry asked, closing the box. "Has it been alright?"

The look on her face told Harry that there was no doubt she had _not_ had a pleasant week. He gave her a look of sincere pity and then patted her shoulder.

"Things will get better soon," he said. "Would you like to set up a time to study together? You're better with practical practice than I am."

"I find that so odd," she said, following him as he continued to move closer to the Slytherin common room, opening the bag of rice cookies and taking a bite out of it. "You can do wandless, non-verbal magic but are absolute pants at spells. Why is that?"

"I've never used a wand," Harry said, sighing. "It feels like I'm shoving my magic through a straw. Extremely uncomfortable."

Hermione blinked. "Have you thought of… forgoing the wand?"

"The last time I tried, Flitwick insisted on me doing the wand movements," Harry said, shaking his head. "Apparently the thought of forgoing the wand had not occurred to him. Like it has not occurred to the Europe population."

"Does that mean that the Asian population don't use wands?" Hermione asked, looking fascinated.

"Well," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "I know that Taiwan does. And from what my dad told me, China doesn't either."

"I'll do some research. It would be awfully nice to be able to do wandless magic," Hermione said. "Well, controlled wandless magic, as wandless magic can be done when someone is upset or angry."

"Well, I know for a fact that my dad doesn't own a wand. He said that wands were for children to help them guide their magic to areas," Harry said. "I don't think he ever owned a wand, now that I think about it. He went to a muggle school in Taiwan, even though his dad was magic."

"What? He never got a letter from a magic school?" Hermione asked, alarmed. Harry shrugged.

"Maybe they don't have one on Taiwan? Taiwan is an island after all," Harry said, blinking. "Or maybe they forgot him?"

"That can't be right," Hermione now looked troubled. "I'll do some research on that too."

Harry nodded and stopped in front of the Slytherin Dungeon. "See you later, Hermione. You can find me at the library later this afternoon." He waved at her and then turned to the stone wall that hid the common room. He spoke the password and entered.

-0-

Harry sat through Transfiguration with a scowl on his face. His eyes narrowed at the matchstick before he glanced up. McGonagall had moved to the other side of the room. He put down his wand and picked up his matchstick to try to get the feel of it.

It, like all the other matchsticks, was made out of wood. The tip where the flame would usually ignite was bright red and the end was squared. Harry scowled at Hermione who seemed to be turning a pile of matchsticks in front of her into several different kinds of needles and then put the matchstick down.

He looked at the matchstick as if it was the reason why he was failing and touched the squared end of the matchstick, murmuring the spell. Before he could even register what was happening, his magic exploded out of his finger and plunged into the matchstick.

There was a colossal BANG that shook the entire room. Ron Weasley jumped so violently that his knees hit the table with an audible SLAM. Hermione screamed lightly. Seamus Finnigan whipped around so quickly that he ended up on the ground, having slid right off the chair. Malfoy grabbed onto the table and looked around to see the cause.

Harry blinked, coughing a little at the smoke that was coming from his table. There was a large black ring on his work area. A small needle rolled several times on the table before hitting his quill and stopping, looking very much innocent.

"Mr. Rowan!" McGonagall demanded. "While I am glad that you have finally learned how to do the spell, I don't appreciate the announcement."

Many of the students gave wary smiles or chuckled outright. Harry rubbed his neck.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, looking embarrassed.

McGonagall swooped over to him and picked up the needle, vanishing the black mark with a wave of her wand. "On the other hand, this needle is perfect. Well done. Five points to Slytherin."

Harry sighed a little as she placed the needle on the table and walked away. Hermione whipped her head around to see him and whispered, "What did you do?!"

"Too much magic," Harry said, shaking his head. "Can I have another matchstick?" He gestured to the pile in front of the brunette.

She passed him another matchstick. Harry rolled it between his fingers, trying to get a feel of it before putting it down on his table and raising his wand. He murmured the incantation and waved his wand. Nothing happened.

Harry glanced up to see most of the class staring at him with baited breath, as if he was going to replicate the explosion. He shook his head and gloomily poked the matchstick with his wand.

It wasn't until the end of class did McGonagall notice that Harry, despite having made one successful matchstick in an explosion, had yet to make a second in the two hour time period. Malfoy seemed to be in the same mindset, though he had yet to make one at all. His matchstick was silver and slightly elongated, but still had a red tip and a square end. Regardless, Malfoy continued to look at Harry suspiciously, as Harry repeatedly poked his matchstick.

At this point, Harry didn't even attempt to say the incantation. He put down his wand and wordlessly poked the matchstick around his desk. He didn't even notice that McGonagall was standing in front of his desk, lighting his match with a cold flame that burned nothing.

"Mr. Rowan!" McGonagall screeched. Harry jumped out of his chair, his chair skidding back in alarm. He held his hand out in preparation to strike, but then froze when he realized where he was.

"Oh! Sorry Professor," Harry said sheepishly. "I didn't realize you were there…" He could feel his face heat up as the class stared at him and slowly lowered himself into his seat, scooting in his chair.

"Yes, well," McGonagall didn't seem to know how to react to that action. "You are to transfigure your match. Not light it with a flame freezing charm."

"A what charm?" Harry asked, looking at her curiously. McGonagall stuffed out the flame and stared at him.

"A flame freezing charm, Mr. Rowan," she answered. "You were not aware you preformed it?"

"Not really," Harry replied earnestly. She gave him a strange look before turning to the rest of the class.

The amount of homework she gave them after the class had ended was phenomenal. Still, Harry didn't complain and let Draco rant to him about it.

"What happened back there anyway," Draco asked, looking very curious. Harry sighed.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. He knew that his control over his magic was very shabby at the moment, but that was only because he didn't have anywhere to practice his control without Dumbledore knowing.

That and he had yet to find where the kitchen was so he could use some eggs.

Draco continued to pester him about his needle and the explosion before Harry finally exploded.

"I don't know, okay?! I don't, Draco! I have never had my magic explode like that!" Harry snapped irritably at a stunned Draco. "I DON'T KNOW! If you don't notice, I'm absolute PANTS at using a wand." He gave the blonde a glare and turned away from him, scowling at his food. He stabbed his meatloaf with vengeance, his anger further fueled by his guilt of snapping at Draco.

Well, if Draco didn't want to be friends anymore, that was fine with him.

_Only…_ Harry's anger diminished a little as the thought occurred to him. _Only, I'd be isolated in Slytherin… Draco was right… Why did the Hat put me here instead of in Hufflepuff. The 'Puffs seem more accepting of people than Slytherin._

His appetite vanished with his anger and he stood up. Draco seemed to be sulking and turned away from him. Harry almost wanted to apologize, but then remembered the insistent nagging from the blond and thought better of it. He left the Great Hall, his heart heavy and his mind clouded.

Harry almost ran smack dab into Quirrell on his way back to the dungeon. He blinked a little and his brow furrowed as Quirrell gave him a stuttering "H-he-hello" before stumbling up the stairs. Harry glanced at the back of Quirrell's head, his eyes narrowed as he frowned. Something was off about the teacher that Harry just couldn't pinpoint, but Harry brushed it off.

"Is it my imagination…?" Harry murmured, opening the Slytherin Common room and walking inside, moving up the stairs.

The second he stepped into the Slytherin boy's dorms, Harry noticed something very wrong. The walls and ground was scorched slightly, particularly around his bed curtains. Harry walked swiftly into the room and tugged the curtains open, fearing the worst.

His books and trunk were sitting by his bed. So were his clothes. His robes had been freshly cleaned and folded at the foot of his bed and his tie and socks next to them. His bed was made, even though Harry knew that he had not made his bed that morning.

Harry bent down to check the wards on his trunk. To his shock, the first ward was smoking slightly and had a large gaping hole in it. Harry reeled back in alarm, wondering who could have done such a thing. For them to have broken through a ward that his dad set up took a large level of skill and power.

Granted, this kind of damage was fairly easily repairable. The ward was damaged, but not shattered completely. All Harry had to do was fill in the hole to repair the ward. The inscription was intact, so that meant that whoever broke through his ward had no idea where the inscription was written.

Harry climbed onto his bed and closed his eyes, pulling his trunk onto his bed and touching it lightly. The first ward flared to life and shimmered around his bedside. Repairing the ward took time—time that Harry didn't have at the moment. But at least he could try to fix what he could.

This ward was meant to keep all those who weren't welcome away. It was specifically designated towards people will ill intent, as Harry had asked his dad for something to protect his trunk. The ward ended up large enough to protect his bed area and could be expanded if Harry put more magic into it.

Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Cygnus' ward. Cygnus' magic was a silvery-white that shimmered like pearls, while Harry's was a bright green, the color of his eyes. Harry watched as his magic blended with Rowan's in the ward, the hole in the ward shrinking smaller and smaller as Harry poured more magic into it.

Ten minutes later, Harry stopped to check the time. The hole was still quite large, about the size of Hagrid, but it was at least making progress. Harry got up and climbed off his bed, brushing his robes a little. This would take several days to complete.

Harry brushed his fingers over a ward on the tie on his bed, activating it. A barrier shimmered to life, the green surrounding him making his eyes glitter before vanishing. This ward was a protection ward, similar to the one his dad had put on his trunk, but much weaker. Harry checked the second and third ward that his father had placed on his trunk, giving a sigh of relief when he realized that they had held up to whatever assault the perpetrator had done. His dad had always warned him never to rely on a single level of protection.

The second ward prevented any spells or objects from reaching Harry and the third was activated when Harry was sleeping to protect him from outside noise, magic, or people. Harry looked up at the first ward, wondering who had a chance to do something like that. He briefly contemplated Quirrell, but then thought better of it. After all, the man seemed terrified of his own shadow. Plus, he didn't know the Slytherin password.

Harry took a deep breath, debating on whether or not he was going to go to Snape's office. He paused and stood up, recalling the prefect's message from the first day.

"_If there is any issue, please contact the prefects before contacting Professor Snape, our Head of House. We will do our best to solve any problem you have."_

Harry paused and thought about it. Would contacting the prefects have any effect? Harry knew for a fact that the boy's prefect would not. He had noticed the boy attempting to dungbomb his trunk only to have it explode when it hit the ward. Perhaps he would fare better with the girl's prefect.

Harry walked out of the dorms and looked at the bulletin board to see if he could find the name of the girl's prefect. _Gemma Farley._

Running a hand through his hair and pulling out his hair tie absentmindedly, Harry debated on whether or not to seek out the prefect. There was always a chance that the prefect would use this knowledge against him.

He decided on letting Snape know after Potions. After all, he had his class in the afternoon.

-0-

Harry chopped the bark silently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. It was supposed to be half an inch cubes and he was doing his best to make them so, pausing only to sharpen his knife between cuts. He glanced at his silver blade, fascinated at the sheen and sharpness before sighing a little, adding the cubes one by one in one minute intervals.

He stirred the potion carefully, watching Snape walk by the table. Snape glanced down at his potions and nodded a little. After the first class, Snape seemed to be quite taken with Harry's skill with potions and his proficient handling of the knife.

Harry didn't mind this little fact, rather enjoying the fact that Snape was so taken with him. He was planning on using that to his advantage, after all.

He just hoped his dad approved of his methods.

Harry approached Snape to hand in his potion and paused at the sight of a single silver hair that Snape had on his robes. Snape didn't seem to notice it, but to Harry, it reeked of his dad's magic.

Harry reminded himself that he had to reply to his dad's owl. Perhaps, he could ask his dad for advice instead of Snape. His dad knew more about wards, after all.

Harry waited until the students left, Malfoy giving Harry the cold shoulder as he left. He walked up to Snape's desk, looking up at the Snape. "Excuse me," he said. Snape didn't even look up.

"If you're here to complain, Rowan, need I remind you that the rules in Slytherin house state that you should approach your prefects before bothering me," Snape sneered, not even bothering to look up. "Have you done so, Rowan?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted, "But only because-"

"Then I suggest you do so. The Slytherin Prefect will bring it to my attention if it is a big issue," Snape snarled. Just being around the boy reminded Snape very much of James Potter, even if the boy didn't look like him.

Harry's face fell and he nodded slowly, shaking his head and sighing. "Alright, Professor."

Snape snorted, watching him leave with one eye. Harry decided on his way out, that he should avoid speaking to Snape about anything, as Snape didn't seem to like him much at all. Still, Snape was his Head of House, and while he wasn't exactly nice, he wasn't exactly mean either. Perhaps speaking with Cygnus would yield better results. He didn't really want the rest of Slytherin to know about how his wards worked.

Harry arrived back in his dorm, sighing deeply. The walls and ground were still charred and the ward still broken, though it didn't seem to have sustained any extra damage.

Harry dipped his quill in ink and began scratching out a letter. He wrote the date and a number one on the top of the parchment.

_Dad,_

_The first week has been hectic. I don't think the Potion's Master, Snape, likes me very much. That being said, I don't really like him all too much._

_Binns literally puts me to sleep. History of Magic could have been such a fun class, but Binns reads in such a boring way that I can't help but sleep. I am definitely opting out of it the first chance I get. Defense Against the Dark Arts had so much potential, but I can't seem to get into it because Quirrell stutters so much that I can't understand him._

_I really want to take Ancient Runes, but that's only available to third years and up. Maybe I'll even learn of things you don't know!_

_Charms and Transfiguration are fun. I am having trouble with channeling my magic through my wand. Are there any tips you can give me? I know you don't use a wand, but I'm asking for tips._

_Can you give me some information about the wards you set up for me? Thanks for that, by the way. Some Slytherin students have tried pranking me and the wards have kept them at bay._

_Your son,_

_Harry_

Harry read it twice before folding it up and getting off his bed so he could go to the Owlery. He knew that his dad was unlikely to send any information through owl, though he might send some warded item with him on Hedwig or Helios. Cygnus much preferred talking in person to sending information that may fall in the wrong hands.

Tying the letter to Hedwig's leg, Harry smiled as the snowy owl chirped and took off. He arrived to the Common Room just in time to see the Slytherin Prefect, Gemma Farley, post a notice on the board.

"Flying Lessons," Harry murmured. He paused before approaching Farley. "Excuse me? Farley?"

Farley turned, saw who was speaking, and sneered at him. Harry wasn't too bothered.

"I have a problem. I noticed that someone was trying to sabotage my belongings and…"

"Trying?" the girl cut him off.

"Well, it was unsuccessful, but…" Harry began, but Farley cut him off again.

"Well then, there isn't a problem, is there?" she huffed, stalking away. Harry stood, frozen where he stood and slowly frowned. He glared resentfully at her back and turned his head away from her. _Well, if I don't have anyone to help me, then I'll just do things myself!_

Harry seethed in silence, glaring at the wall before the loneliness sunk in. He really missed his dad. He missed the family meals and the warm afternoon tea that his dad would provide. He missed the training in the privacy of his own home. He even missed the embarrassing pictures on the walls.

Climbing the steps to the boy's dorms, Harry flopped on his bed, ignoring Draco's loud complaints on the scorch marks. Nott stared at Harry and then at the wards before shrugging as Harry pulled his curtain shut.

It didn't occur to Harry that the scorch marks were created by Dark Magic, which was why the House Elves had not successfully removed it by morning.

-0-

_**A/N: Read and review guys! I love reviews!**_


	5. The Harp

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 5: The Harp**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, favorite, and/or follow! It means a lot to me! **_

_**Honestly, I never thought this would be popular. Who knew!**_

-0-

Harry looked up as Hedwig returned the next morning with a letter in her beak. The owl dropped it on his plate before resting on his shoulder, as if waiting to see what Cygnus had replied. Harry smiled as he tore open the envelope, a small silver charm in the form of a necklace falling on his lap.

_Protection to your person._

_Be careful. You know why I won't go into detail on it. Restoring the ward will have to wait, but this will protect you against the basics of magic._

Harry paused in the letter to put the necklace on. For what Cygnus considered the basics were most people's _advanced, highly unusual_ magic. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Cygnus only put the term "basics" so that any monitoring of his owls wouldn't trigger any alarm.

Wards were beautiful in the fact that they could be placed on almost anything solid. True, liquids couldn't exactly be warded, though the cup holding the liquid could. Triggers, in Cygnus' case, were activated by Harry.

Harry had yet to finish restoring the ward around his bed—the hole being very hard to seal shut, but it had shrunk in diameter. The break was about the size of an orange now, only closing slower and slower each time Harry poured magic into it. Completing the ward was always the hardest part. Harry wondered if his dad had any tricks to teach him. He glanced back down at the letter.

_Be on your guard. If they can get through my first ward, you'll have to rely on your skill. You better have been practicing your magic and training because we'll be heading to my parent's place over Christmas. Good luck trying to climb the mountain without the training._

Harry went pale and mentally swore to himself to start physical training again as soon as possible. He could still recall the rather humiliating event of asking Cygnus to carry him up the mountain three years ago because he ran out of stamina halfway up.

_Things are going smoothly so far. I will update you when you return for the holidays._

_Cygnus_

Harry sighed with a level of relief and smiled a little, folding the letter and writing down a number one in the upper right hand corner. It was a trick that Cygnus had taught him back home to determine whether his mind had been messed with.

He tucked the letter away and stood up, sipping his pumpkin juice. So far, Dumbledore had not tried anything, but that didn't mean Dumbledore didn't have anything planned. And Snape had not approached him at all, meaning that he either didn't hear about the burned marks or didn't care. Either way, Harry wasn't going to bring it up again.

Harry headed to the dorm to put the letter away before moving outdoors to flying class.

The grounds were cool and the wind was gentle. Harry rather appreciated the soft grass under his feet and the mild temperature of the autumn day. He would have loved to nap under the tree near the lake on a day like this, but, unfortunately, he had classes to get to and homework to finish.

He spotted a bush of red hair in the crowd and stood next to Draco. Draco was still not on speaking terms with him, but at least he had stopped glaring at him. Harry was more used to the ignoring than the glaring anyway so it didn't bother him that much. At least he wasn't attacking him like some of the other Slytherin students.

Without Draco to talk to between classes, Harry had noticed the people trying to attack him. It seemed like, whenever he was walking between classes, getting a drink, going to the bathroom, or even when he headed back to his rooms, someone whipped out their wand to either hex him or try to trip him up. He had caught three instances between two classes that were literally five minutes of walking distance. Luckily, the hexes simply bounced off the active wards and the tripping him up by creating pitfalls for him to step into were easily avoided.

Harry glanced at Madam Hooch and then at his broom. He was… supposed to talk to it? Harry sort of doubted that the broom would respond to mere speech so he raised his hand and closed his eyes, trying to pull the broom up.

The broom shot to his hand. Harry staggered a little, sighing. This was much like his wandless magic that Cygnus had him do every morning. To move things, to extend his magic, to bounce an _egg_ without breaking it…

Speaking of that, Harry still had to practice.

-0-

Contrary to what the public thought, Albus Dumbledore knew that he wasn't always right, all good, or all Light.

Albus looked around his study before standing up and looking out the window to Potter. Potter was having his first flying lesson today, which meant that he would likely fall in love with Quidditch soon. Albus could certainly see Potter loving the sport as much as his father.

He had felt slightly guilty at leaving Harry with his relatives. He knew they wouldn't treat the child right—if Lily Potter's comments about her sister didn't satisfy, then Minerva's observations certainly sealed it. Regardless, in the end, he would be kept away from the fame and the spotlight. Away from the Death Eaters who were still on the prowl. Away from Black, who had betrayed the Potters.

Imagine his surprise, when a foreign wizard took the boy in and fed him.

Albus knew that the man had fed the boy his magic. It was a standard custom in almost all Asian countries to feed their child magic. That was why magic that ran in families became stronger after every generation. Even if the child was not blood related, it could still be fed magic through the milk.

The trick was that the magic had to be given willingly and that the magic was untainted.

Cygnus Rowan was unique in that his magic was untainted by Dark Arts. Untainted by blood, pain, or weakness. Even Albus, himself, had blood on his hands—his magic. He had killed quite a few people in the wars he was forced in. To find someone so pure was unheard of in the British community. It came to no surprise that Cygnus was a warding specialist. The wards they set up with their magic were not responsible for any deaths. Instead, if anyone died due to the wards, the intruder was the one responsible. Such was the case in defensive magic.

Since Cygnus had already been feeding the child his magic, Albus was stuck. Albus was eternally grateful that he did his research before he had visited Cygnus all those years ago, despite the several hour delay. The problem was that the Goblins would recognize the magical feeding as a bond and write up the adoption papers for Cygnus. Albus couldn't have that. So he offered to do it for Cygnus instead.

Albus knew that it was morally wrong to hide the fact that Cygnus had not adopted Harry in the magical world. He knew that he would be in serious trouble if Cygnus pressed charges. But Albus needed that link to Harry. Especially since he needed to be able to teach Harry the things he needed to know.

Such as Occlumency.

Legilimency was highly illegal to use on students without their parent or guardian approval. But for Harry to learn Occlumency, he would need to be Legilimenced. There was no way around that.

To hunt for the Horcruxes… he would need to have guardian permission. To destroy Tom Riddle once and for all.

He did feel bad that he was pushing all the responsibility on a child, but there was nothing to be done. He could recall the records of the disasters of ignored prophecies. Most of the time, they would come to pass regardless. Or they would destroy families, friends, towns, communities before coming to pass. It was far more preferable to play out a prophecy and have some level of control over it.

Albus was glad that Cygnus was able to give Harry a normal childhood. Granted, the sorting of Harry into Slytherin had taken him by complete surprise. He had been so sure that Harry would be a Gryffindor like his parents, but that wasn't a big deal.

But now that Harry had entered Hogwarts… Albus would have to train him. For that reason, he had hidden the Philosopher stone in the castle. He needed Harry to cultivate his observation skills, his researching ability, and his morals. He would need these skills in the search for Horcruxes.

Albus hesitated before reaching up to pet Fawkes. Fawkes gave a soft thrill before looking at him. Albus smiled lightly in return and spoke gently.

"We must be prepared for Tom's return. Harry must be prepared." He dropped his hand and looked back out the window at the grounds.

Albus was aware of the wards Cygnus had installed in young Harry's trunk and on his person. Truthfully, he was grateful for those wards. He was well aware of students attempting to attack the Boy-Who-Lived and the wards were a very good deterrent.

For that reason, Albus had not banned the wards or taken them away from the boy. He was sure that Cygnus knew that Harry would need extra protection. Having worked with the goblins, even if it wasn't close, Cygnus would have picked up the knowledge of Harry's fame and fortune. He knew that the goblins hadn't informed Cygnus of the magical adoption process, as goblins looked to magic which was mostly blood relations.

At least, Harry Potter would not have the neglectful, shallow childhood that awaited him on Petunia's doorstep. Cygnus would never had allowed that. Especially after Dumbledore had said what he had said all those years ago in Cygnus' new house.

Albus closed his eyes and smiled. He didn't have the answer to everything. But at least, he was sure that Harry would do what needed to be done. Whether he liked it or not since Voldemort was rather insistent on pursuing him. And Cygnus—a rare and powerful wardmaster—would assist his son and perhaps his Order when he called them back.

Fawkes gave a small musical chirp and Albus looked at him. Albus knew that Voldemort was still out there. Still biding his time. Against over fifty years of knowledge, Harry needed this kind of training as fast as possible.

-0-

Harry glanced at the other Slytherins, frowning as he saw them steal Neville's Remembrall. Harry turned his head a little, pretending not to notice, but then Neville whimpered a "give it back. It was from my Gran."

Debating on whether it was worth getting in trouble for, Harry turned back to the group and extended a hand. "Hand it over, Goyle."

"Why should he?" Draco snapped. "Sticking up for a fellow Gryffindor, Potter? Why were you sorted into the house of Snakes. You're weak. Not like the rest of us."

Harry felt himself bristle before giving a dark glare. "And you would risk the House of Longbottom's ire by going on with this charade? How very un-Slytherin of you, Malfoy. Do recall that the Longbottoms are a pureblood line."

"Seems wasted on him," Draco sneered. "Barely a squib, he is."

The other Slytherins laughed, but Harry didn't. He simply gave a grim smile.

"So what? I don't see your family the shining example of power," Harry replied. Draco dropped the broom and snarled, whipping out his wand.

"YOU-!"

Harry already had his out, his eyes flashing. He pointed it straight at Draco. "Try me, Draco. I promise, my dad's wards are stronger than anything you try to throw at me. I can hex you faster than you can blink."

"You can't even transform a needle into a matchstick," Draco sneered, looking nervously at the wand aimed between his eyes.

"And the resulting explosion will take out one of us, and I assure you it won't be me," Harry responded, frowning. "I repeat, hand it over, Goyle."

Draco glanced at Goyle who grunted and then tossed the Remembrall high up in the air. Harry kept his eyes on it and dashed towards it, ignoring the flashes of light that barely missed the ends of his cloak and extended his magic up.

_Concentrate. It's like an egg. Fragile. Be careful not to break it!_

Harry could feel his magic extend, but wasn't sure what the impact was going to look like. He still hadn't quite gotten the hang of bouncing an egg on his magic a hundred times, though the most he had gotten was twenty three.

To his immense relief, the Remembrallsimply slowed down, plowing right through the thin layer of magic Harry had thrown up to soften the fall of the glass ball. Harry scrabbled for it but then managed to catch it in his left hand before it hit the ground. He gripped it in his hand, glancing at the clear smoke and then sighing as he made his way back to the other students. He offered it to Neville, who seemed immensely relieved to see it unbroken.

"What's the function of such an item?" Harry asked, looking at the students. "Why bother having a glass ball that tells you that you've forgotten something without telling you what you forgot?"

Neville looked about to object before the question sunk in fully and he tilted his head in thought. "I… don't know." He replied finally after contemplating several minutes. Harry shrugged before turning away.

"For a Slytherin, he's really not all that bad," Ron Weasley whispered to his neighbor, Seamus. Seamus grinned.

-0-

Harry took a deep breath before closing his eyes and calming his body. He felt his magic wash the empty classroom in waves, wrapping around some objects and lifting the lighter ones. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wand.

It felt like a piece of wood in his hands, but Harry tried pushing his magic through the wand, whispering the incantation for the levitation charm. He squeezed his magic through the wand, compressing it into a small tube and trying to force it through the wood. The wandtip exploded in a shower of sparks, the desk he was trying to levitate shooting up and planting into the stone ceiling.

Harry was dazed by the blast, looking up in exasperation. The desk was embedded into the stone quite deeply, his magic swirling around it, keeping it there. Harry pulled his magic back to his hand, but the desk remained on the ceiling, small pieces of stone falling on the ground gently.

Harry rolled his wand between his fingers, contemplating the idea of forgoing the wand altogether. Instead, he pocketed it and sat down in a chair, trying to think of how other students, particularly Hermione Granger was able to cast spells.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't see other people's magic unless they directly interacted with his own. It meant that he could not observe Hermione casting the spell and imitate how she was doing it. He would have to try things himself.

Harry pulled out his wand again and thought for a minute. Hermione had mentioned that wandless, non-verbal magic was rare. That meant that most of the wizarding population in Britain did not have as much control over their magic outside of their wand. Harry just had to find the difference between using a wand and not.

Without putting magic through the wand, it was a pretty flimsy stick. Harry knew this from his experimenting. The question was, how was he to push magic through the wand without it exploding?

Perhaps this was why his dad never used a wand. Harry had tried segmenting his magic and pushing only a little through the wand at a time, but those only resulted in smaller explosions. It was a miracle his _wand_ hadn't exploded yet.

Harry pointed his finger at the desk, pulling it out of the stone and setting it carefully on the ground again. The wood was splintered, the metal was bent, and the legs were uneven, but Harry turned away from it anyway.

If his wand was a straw, instead of pushing magic in one end to reach the other, perhaps something had to pull on the other end? But how was he going to do that?

Harry waved his wand, frowning a little as he murmured the levitation charm again. Nothing happened, but Harry didn't expect anything to happen. His magic wasn't being shoved into the wand.

Harry pointed it at several objects in the room like various desks, chairs, and even a piece of parchment that he had found on the desk. How was he going to pull his magic through the other end without extending his magic out?

Harry waved his hand at the tattered desk, whispering the incantation. The desk floated several feet off the ground, supported by his magic. On a whim, Harry pointed his wand at the desk, whispering the incantation once again.

To Harry's surprise, his magic pulled through the wand easily with almost no effort. Harry frowned, watching the desk fly up and remain in the air, supported by his magic. He was pretty sure this wasn't the right way to do it, as his magic was naturally attracted to extensions of his magic, but without definite proof, he couldn't deny that the result was that it had worked.

_But why bother extending your magic to an object without doing anything to wield a wand?_ Harry thought desperately. _It would be much easier if you could just manipulate your magic the first time to cause the effect instead of wasting a second step of pulling out a wand and casting._

Logically, though, Harry knew that it wasn't viable. Things like curses and jinxes… spells that you shoot at people rather than manipulating objects… you couldn't possibly extend you magic out to attach to the opponent.

Unless you did it to create a target…

But that was stupid! If someone had time to create a target, he would have shot them already. Wasting magic on creating a target was foolish, especially in a life or death battle.

Harry would need to experiment more if he was to get a definitive answer to his questions.

Lowering the desk to the ground, Harry looked at his holly wand and sighed. He really didn't like to do this in a place where he could potentially get caught, but it was better than nothing. He needed to catch up with his classmates.

Speaking of catching up to his classmates…

Harry could feel the grin spreading across his face as he hatched a plan to get the Slytherin students back.

-0-

A couple weeks later, Harry was laying on his bed after classes. The hole in the wards was completely fixed with a combination of his and his dad's magic and he was sure that it was much tougher than they were before. He had just closed his eye when an explosion was set off in front of his wards, a shrill scream echoing through the dorm.

Harry closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, though he could hear laughter and a "Wow, Pansy. You just got _inked_." That was closely followed by another splash and a yell. Pansy cackled with laughter.

"I'll get you Pot-head!" she shrieked, but then slapped a hand over her mouth. Harry snorted inwardly. If he hadn't been awake then, he would have woken up at the first yell. And she wouldn't have been able to get him even with a new person each time.

He had tried to brainstorm who had broke the wards, but came up with almost nothing. He suspected that, perhaps Quirrell wasn't as dumb as he acted in class, or that perhaps Professor Snape tried to break them to see how strong they were, but he always felt like he was missing something vital.

Harry sighed as the wards activated a third time and a yelp joined the two that had already tried. Thankfully, the wards were set so that anyone who attempted to cross them without an explicit invitation would get a nasty shock.

The whole school was shocked the next morning as three Slytherins, Pansy included, were sporting colorful, sparkling afros. Harry merely ate his eggs and bacon, watching people gape at the three. He turned to the post he was reading and hummed lightly, ignoring the chatter. He had more things to worry about.

After reinforcing the wards, Harry had decided to set some harmless traps to those who attempted to breech the wards. Hopefully, it was a better deter than consistent failing. Harry had yet to pull any hurtful pranks but he wasn't opposed to it. He still had itching powder that he had brought…

Harry smiled a little, thinking about the things he could do without getting trouble. He would need to plan his next move, but there was no rush.

Looking up at the post still filtering in, Harry smirked. He still had so much he could do here… Cygnus would understand. Being alone and friendless wasn't exactly comfortable. Cygnus cared about him, Harry knew, and had always provided the necessities, but anything beyond that had to be earned. Friends had to be earned. And obviously, Harry was hanging in the wrong crowd.

Harry would give it two more weeks before trying to integrate into another house. His first choice would be Ravenclaw.

-0-

The night of the Halloween feast, Harry sat down at the Ravenclaw table. There was initial puzzlement, but most of the school had seen Harry being picked on by other Slytherins. Still, one Ravenclaw approached him.

"You're at the wrong table, Rowan," a girl said. A prefect, by the looks of it, as Harry could see the badge.

"I'm at the table without stupid people," Harry said reasonably. "Those idiots at my table won't stop attacking me so I've moved." He sighed a little, shaking his head. "All their gossip is about Quidditch anyway. How dull. They don't have anything intelligent to say."

The girl tilted her head before shrugging. "Right. Well, what can you expect if you get sorted into Slytherin?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "So I'm extending my reach to the smartest kids in the school in hopes they aren't the house dividing bigots of the century. You aren't are you?"

"Of course not!" The girl seemed offended at the very notion.

"That's good. We can get along then." Harry smiled charmingly and the girl blushed, taking a seat next to him. She turned to chat with her friend and Harry went back to mixing his water with a finger, creating a tornado in his cup. One house taken, three to go.

It occurred to him that Slytherin would be the hardest to get, but Harry had time. He had plenty of time.

Harry pulled out two candles and set them on his plate, lighting each with one of the candles that were set on the table. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep sigh, as if getting ready to meditate.

"What are you doing?" a boy asked, looking extremely confused. Harry didn't reply right away, but instead clapped his hands again and bowed his head twice.

"I'm honoring my parents who died this day," Harry said calmly, nodding, without opening his eyes. "And for all those who lost their lives in the last war."

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table before the boy said, "Oh… Can I join?"

Harry looked up at the Ravenclaw. "Sure. You clap your hands together and bow your head. I did one for each of my parents and one for the others I don't know by name. It's nothing fancy, but it helps me feel less guilty about celebrating the day my parents died."

Apparently, Ravenclaws were suckers for sob stories because the minute the boy passed on the message to the others, Harry nearly had a tableful of bowing heads and clapping hands. Harry smiled a little but tipped his head, holding the plate up so the other students could see better. One of the Ravenclaws waved their wand and the plate floated up.

The teachers all turned their heads to the noise. Snape gave a start when he spotted Harry sitting at the Ravenclaw table and the bowed heads. Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking thoughtful. McGonagall swooped over to the table and demanded, in a rather shrill voice, "What's going on here?! Mr. Rowan, why are you not sitting with your housemates?!"

"Oh, Professor," Harry said, turning to McGonagall, feeling a little nervous at the stern look on her face. "I was just honoring my parents and the people who died. I didn't think the Slytherins would appreciate me doing that at their table, so I moved for tonight. There wasn't any school rule that I have to sit with my table, is there? October thirty-first is the day they died and I do this every year with my dad at home, you see." He glanced up at her and was slightly surprised to see tears in the Professor's eyes.

"Yes… well… carry on…" McGonagall said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tears in her eyes. She swept away and Harry turned back to the floating plate. He tossed his magic to the plate and pointed his wand at it, whispering _orchideous._ A wreath of white lilies decorated the plate lightly, the stems curled around each other.

Harry glanced at the teacher's table, noting Quirrell's absence before his eyes landed on Snape. Snape was staring at the plate, his eyes wide, strangely full of tears before he picked up his napkin and buried his face into it. Harry shrugged and turned back to the table in time to see the food appear on the table.

Halfway into the Halloween feast, the Great Hall doors slammed open and Quirrell came rushing inside. Harry looked up from his meal just in time as Quirrell reached Dumbledore's chair and said, "Troll in the dungeons! Thought you ought to know." He then sank onto the floor in a dead faint.

A few milliseconds passed as it sank in before students leaped out of their seats, screaming and rushing around, trying to get to the door. It took several firecrackers from Dumbledore to get everyone's attention again, but Harry was quietly puzzling the mystery.

"Prefects," Dumbledore said in the silence, "lead your house back to the dormitory, immediately."

Harry frowned but stood up heading back to the Slytherin table. He really didn't want to go back to the dungeons after the troll was declared in the area, but he would rather not impose on the Ravenclaws any longer.

He glanced up at the staff table in time to see Snape slide out of the doors. Harry shrugged and then moved with his house back to the dungeons.

Surprisingly, they hadn't met the troll while they walked to their common room and the prefects seemed confident that the teacher would take care of it.

Harry was just sitting on his bed when there was a loud scream and an explosion down to the common room. He exchanged a glance with Draco and ran out of the boys dorms to see what had happened.

A twelve foot troll, smelling like old socks and as unwashed public toilet, was swinging its enormous club at the walls. Harry dived back into the room as most of the students tried to pack in the dorms or run around the troll. He scrambled back to his bed and pulled Draco past the wards so he wouldn't get squished by the students.

"Th… thanks!" Draco panted, his lips white and his hands shaking badly. Harry could hear some people try some spells to throw at the troll but it didn't seem to have much of an effect on the thick hide. Instead, the stairs were destroyed by a single swing of the club and Harry could spot the lumpy head through the cracks in the door.

Harry's body froze on shock, his mind whirling a mile a minute to try to come up with something he could do to help. He knew no spells to take down a troll and, quite honestly, he was glad he didn't. He never thought he would meet a troll in _school_.

The door was smashed apart by the wooden club and the troll roared, his beady eyes peering in the room. Most of the students screamed in fear or were trembling with terror. Harry made a split decision as the troll raised the club again to shatter the doorway completely.

He grabbed his warded trunk, praying that his dad had warded his trunk against physical blows and pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

-0-

**_A/N: Read and review as always._**


	6. The Pendulum Clock

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 6: The Pendulum Clock**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: A guest asked what the significance of the Southern Cross is in my third chapter.**_

_**I want to say more, but I feel like I would be giving a good part of what's coming to come. So I'll say this: The Southern Cross is the contrast of The Northern Cross. "The Northern Cross" is part of a bigger constellation.**_

_**Also, I'm sorry to say I don't speak Spanish. Sorry to the one reviewer! But thank you for the kind words (according to what Google translate told me).**_

_**And this is to the one moron who commented that my chapter one wasn't on Harry. I laugh in your face. The first chapter in Goblet of Fire wasn't devoted to Harry. Or the first chapter of Sorcerer's Stone and the first chapter of Deathly Hallows. Or the first two chapters in Half Blood Prince. The first chapter is supposed to set up background which is exactly what I was doing. So boo-hoo to you, go read someone else's fanfiction.**_

_**Thanks to Cauchy for the feedback. I'll try to live up to your expectations.**_

-0-

The club impacted the wards solidly but then there was a flash of light and a roar of pain from the troll. Harry opened his eyes, wincing a little as he held the trunk with shaky hands. He really needed to meditate after this, but at least the troll hadn't smashed Draco's head in like it was jelly.

Harry held fast as the troll gave furious grunts and roars, smashing the surrounding stone, but unable to break the wards that were shimmering in place. Harry turned to the stunned students.

"DO SOMETHING!" he screamed desperately.

"Wh…what?!" Draco squeaked, his voice unusually high.

"ANYTHING!" Harry said, flinching as the blow from the troll shook the barrier. The barrier held, but Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it off.

The Slytherins were too shocked or terrified to move. Harry looked at them and turned back to the troll just in time for the troll's club to impact the barrier again. Harry felt something inside him shatter and he was thrown back violently, his head smacking into the stone walls hard. Black spots danced in his vision and Harry felt something wet trickle down his face as he collapsed. He could hear Draco's scream, but couldn't really tell where it was coming from.

The troll gave a satisfied roar looking ready to attack again, but at that moment, the teachers ran in. Harry could dimly hear McGonagall's voice before he passed out.

-0-

Draco looked stunned at his ex-friend as he was thrown back by the troll's attack. There was an audible _crack_ and Draco looked on in horror as Harry passed out, blood pouring out of his head and staining the deep green carpet. Draco could almost imagine the brain matter peeking through his friend's head.

He couldn't help it. He screamed. Loudly. He rushed over to his friend's side, glancing at the unscathed trunk, before trying to wake him.

"Harry! Harry!" Draco could feel tears come to his eyes, partly from anger at the teachers for taking so long, and partly from his own useless terror when his friend had tried to defend him from the troll. Harry had asked for help and Draco had just froze up.

Theo and Blaise both ran to Harry too, trying to roll him over. Harry had blood staining his face and his eyes were closed, obviously unconscious.

Draco stormed to the door in tears, looking at the Professors. They had driven the troll away, but several Professors, including Snape, had ended up staying to try and calm the students.

"PROFESSOR SNAPE! HELP!" Draco bellowed, tears leaking out against his will. Draco knew it was irrational to cry, but he couldn't help it. If only he was faster… If only he was stronger… if only…

Snape jerked up and transfigured a broken table in the common room into a ladder. He climbed up the ladder and stalked in the dorms.

"What is it, Draco?" Snape asked, his voice calm, despite the chaos.

"Harry… He…!" Draco choked up. Most of the older students had pushed their way next to Harry so they could try to stifle the bleeding, but they needed a healer, fast. Snape was unable to see Harry because of them.

"Hurry, Professor!" the Head Boy said, his face ashen, but his wand out. He ushered the other students aside so Snape could get a clear view.

Snape took one look at the child and his blood ran cold. He noted the amount of blood surrounding the boy's body and the very obvious head wound that the students were still trying to clog. He rushed over and picked the boy up, not even bothering with the ladder and jumping down to the common room and flooing to the Hospital Wing.

It was bad.

Snape almost collapsed when Poppy said that Harry had lost severe amounts of blood, suffered a concussion, and had broken three ribs, his skull, and four vertebrae in that single impact.

After collecting the potions that Poppy needed to put the boy back together, Snape exited the Hospital Wing to see Dumbledore with the other teachers, waiting. He rubbed his head with his fingers, not really wanting to discuss this.

"How is he, Severus?" Minerva asked immediately, in tears.

"Bad. Poppy mentioned that the boy may be in a permanent coma," Snape said, shaking his head. "He suffered severe magical exhaustion. It was bad enough where his body preferred shutting everything down to keep his vital organs running."

"That is… unfortunate…" Dumbledore said, his eyes grave.

"I have to go to his guardian," Snape said, shaking his head. "And inform him. He may want to come and see him or take him home."

Dumbledore nodded and Flitwick whimpered a little.

"Poor child. Doing such a heroic thing and…" Flitwick sniffed, shaking his head.

"He should have waited until the Professors arrived!" Snape said, his temper flaring.

"He tried…" Dumbledore said. "According to his dorm mates, he stayed in the room, but the troll broke through and would have killed all of the students had Harry not leapt forward to defend his house."

There was a silence and Snape let out a sigh. Minerva stepped forward.

"I'll come with you," she said, looking at Snape in the eye.

"As will I," Dumbledore said, his head bowed a little. He could have never guessed this would happen.

-0-

When Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall arrived at Privet Drive, they noticed that Rowan had the blinds open. They could see tea on the table and cookies. Rowan glanced up, noticed them, and then opened the door wordlessly. McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore filed in silently.

"So… I felt my son's distress. Care to tell me what happened?" Rowan asked, without as much as a hello. He gestured to the seats laid out around the table and folded his hands together. "It woke me up." He glanced at the clock on the wall which said that it was two in the morning.

It took an hour for them to retell the story. Rowan, to Snape's surprise, was completely silent the whole time, though his eyes were blazing by the end of it. Snape felt a sense of respect for the man who, despite everything, heard them out before demanding things.

"So…" Rowan said calmly. "A troll entered the castle, and Albus irresponsibly…" He glared at the old man, Albus meeting his eyes, sadly. "Sent my son back to the dungeons where his common room is, despite the danger that the troll could get in."

"The common rooms are warded heavily, you see," Snape defended, bristling a little. "No troll should have been able to break in!"

"When were those wards last checked?" Rowan asked, turning his dark glare on Snape. Snape resisted the urge to flinch and bowed his head. Rowan sneered. "I thought so. Regardless, it doesn't change the fact that someone had let the troll in and it did significant damage to my son and probably traumatized hundreds of others."

"I understand you're upset," Minerva tried, "But how can you assume that someone let the troll in? Our staff would never-"

"Spare me," Rowan hissed at her. "A thousand year old castle that holds children would have wards against a troll. The goblins at Gringotts told me that Hogwarts is very well protected, as it is a school. An insider helped, no doubt about that." He wordlessly poured tea for them and served it. "There is an insider traitor. Find them." He stood up and closed his eyes, walking to the window. The street was deserted at this hour, but Rowan didn't seem to be looking at that. "All of you are just lucky that my wards were able to hold against a troll's repeated attack. I want to see my son."

Snape looked like he was going to say something nasty, but McGonagall elbowed him. Snape shut his mouth and Dumbledore nodded understandingly.

"I understand," he said gravely. "Harry seems to have suffered severe magical exhaustion and may be in a permanent coma."

"He won't be," Rowan said, seemingly confident about that. "I expect the walls of the Slytherin Dorms to be cushioned. I also expect a full investigation on this matter." He glared at Dumbledore, but the old man was unfazed. "Albus, have I made myself clear?"

"Quite," Dumbledore said, dipping his head. Rowan nodded and looked at the three.

"Now, how would I get to Hogwarts?"

-0-

The Slytherin students were, understandably, still very shaken with the whole ordeal. Draco tossed and turned the whole night, but it seemed like every time he closed his eyes, the image of the bloodied Potter flashed before his eyes. He sat up eventually in the early morning hours.

Draco climbed down the ladder that Snape had transfigured, looking at the ruined common room. Thanks to Harry, the dorms were largely untouched, but the common room would definitely need to be repaired. To his surprise, Draco noticed that he was not the only person awake. A lot of the boys in the dorm were impatiently waiting, glancing at the clock from time to time, until breakfast.

Draco wouldn't have been surprised if school was canceled today, though there was no official notice. Still, when the clock chimed seven, the students started to file out. To Draco's surprise, they split into two groups. About half of the students went to the Great Hall, while most of the younger students in first and second year walked towards the Hospital Wing.

Draco followed the younger group of students, wondering about Potter's injury. He wondered if this constituted a life debt, as Potter had clearly saved all of them from being squished when he would have been perfectly fine under his wards. But right now, Potter would have to be alive for him to fulfil it.

To Draco's surprise, there was someone in the Hospital Wing that was clearly not a healer, or a teacher. The man had long white hair that was tied up in a ponytail and was wearing muggle clothes. The man turned around at the sound of many students piling in the room and Draco recognized him as the Ward Master, Rowan.

Rowan blinked slowly at the group. Draco noted the slightly red eyes that the older man had, probably due to the lack of sleep, and then Rowan pulled the curtain aside.

Harry was bandaged up, the potions working their magic, his face no longer pained or as pale. The blood was cleaned up and the bandages were white.

"How… How is he?" Theodore asked softly, his voice very quiet. Rowan looked at him calmly, his dark eyes glinting a little, a frown on his young face.

"He'll survive," Rowan said shortly. "He's in no shape to be doing anything for a while. I assume that you are part of the Slytherin House?" He glanced at the green tie and crest on Potter's body before nodding to the students.

"Yes… um… We wanted to… just see if… he was alright," Blaise stammered, unsure what to say. "He did… save us after all."

"Mystery to me why he didn't leave you all to be flattened, but I suppose Harry has always been a bit stubborn on that regard," Rowan said, shrugging. "Perhaps if more people were hurt, the wards in Hogwarts would be updated more often."

Draco shared an uneasy look to Goyle and Crabbe but said nothing. Rowan turned back to Potter and placed a hand on Potter's head, a dim silvery light shining under his hand.

"His magic levels have recovered enough, but I'll be bringing him home," Rowan said, frowning at them. "Only time will tell when he will wake up." He looked back at the group. "Why are you here?"

"Harry saved us," Draco said, his voice shaking only slightly. Rowan glanced at him before nodding.

"He did, didn't he? I suppose you all are here to see to his wellbeing then?" Rowan asked, leaning back in his chair. "Or were you all planning on trying to hex him while he's unconscious?" He gave a meaningful glance to Draco and Draco wavered.

"It's… true that Harry wasn't really liked in Slytherin," Theodore said. "But after yesterday, I think we can say that he will be protected in our House."

Rowan studied him carefully, but then nodded. "I see… I hope then, that you would not tempt him by setting off the wards I placed repeatedly." He stood up and moved to the cabinet, picking up a bottle and then placing it on the bedside table. "If they do not cease their attacks, I will set up more dangerous wards to deter them. Warn your house, would you?"

Draco felt sweat break out on his skin as the older Rowan's dark eyes pierced though their eyes and seemed to peer into his very soul. Goosebumps exploded on his body, his eyes widening and he took a step back. He wasn't the only one though.

Theo jerked and backed away. Blaise inhaled sharply. Some people stumbled into walls and furniture. Rowan's eyes scanned over the entire crowd before a very chilly smile graced his lips.

"I look forward to the good news," he said softly, his voice cold. He turned back to Potter's bed and the curtain slid shut, covering both from view. Draco was so shocked that it took him several minutes to realize that Rowan had not pulled out a wand.

Pansy grabbed Draco's arm, but Draco shook her off. He looked back at the curtain, a little more than unnerved, but wanting to know more about the man. The man who could ward against people, hexes, and trolls… His father had been right; this man was truly an asset to the Dark Lord if they could befriend him.

But the question was how to get Rowan's attention. Rowan didn't seem interested in them. Draco considered trying to hex Potter, but that might set off the man and cause him to throw up wards that would stop them from getting any closer. He might even pull out some powerful forms of magic.

He would have to come back later.

-0-

Draco snuck into the Hospital Wing in the later afternoon when classes were finished. The curtains were still closed, Potter still supposedly in bed with Rowan sitting next to him. Draco was a little hesitant in bringing attention to himself, as Rowan didn't seem happy at him or his house. Draco wondered if Potter had told Rowan about the animosity in their house.

The curtain opened and Rowan stepped out sipping a cup of tea. Potter was sitting up; apparently awake, though still very pale. Rowan paused at the sight of Draco and nodded to him, leaving through the doors and heading out.

"Something you need, Draco?" Harry asked, laying back, sighing deeply. Draco paused and then slowly sat down, looking a little nervous.

"Why did you act like a Gryffindor?" Draco asked.

"Pardon?" Harry replied, looking at Draco blankly.

"Running into trouble like that head on! Are you asking to get killed?! What if you HAD died?! Then who would I share a dorm with?!" Draco was rambling at this point, pointing a shaking finger at Harry. "And another thing! You would have been JUST FINE without needing to protect us! Why would you risk your life like that?! Have you gone mad?! You took that HUGE risk for us! Why are you so… so… _Gryffindor?!_"

Draco didn't understand. He was used to his father teaching him about hitting people when they were down. He was used to the underhanded tactics and secret planning that came with being associated with the Dark Lord. He was used to listening to his father, aspiring to be him, taking the Dark Mark with pride. Something like friends were only forged if something mutual could be obtained. Harry had nothing to gain from saving him… Unless it was the Life Debt that Draco now owed him.

A dark chill ran down Draco's spine. A Life Debt to Harry Potter. Most people would be thrilled, but Draco knew that nothing good would come out of it. He couldn't tell his father—His father would most likely shun him and lock him in the house so he couldn't pay that life debt back. Draco was bound by his magic to repay him… unless Harry had not intended to save him wholeheartedly.

"Did I truly not gain anything from that? Was risking my life not worth the life debt you owe me?" Harry asked, a smirk crossing his face.

"You… you…" Draco seemed lost for words, his face going pale. "My father is coming tonight. Don't you dare tell him about it! This is between you and me!"

"Now why would I tell him something like that?" Harry asked innocently. Draco's eyes narrowed.

"I'm serious, Potter! This is between you and me," Draco said seriously.

Harry sighed and nodded. "I know that much. Your father would hate it for you to be _indebted _to the Boy-Who-Lived, wouldn't he? My dad told me as much."

Draco relaxed a little. "Yeah… When did you wake up?"

Harry saw the deliberate change of topic and decided to follow along. "This afternoon. My dad mentioned that I had suffered a magical exhaustion and had entered into a coma. He supplied me with magic and I woke up." He looked at his hands and then back at Draco. "He was right about you though."

"What did he say about me?" Draco asked.

"He said…" Harry paused here, looking at Draco a little. "He said you would make a good business partner. I told him that you were my friend but… He said that you weren't friend material. I asked him why and… he told me that he had learned that your father doesn't make friends. Only allies and acquaintances. You wouldn't understand what being a friend was like."

Harry gave a hollow sort of laugh as he recalled his own response to that.

"_What do you know about friends?! You never had any!"_

_Cygnus' face dropped in shock and his dark eyes widened. Harry remembered the surge of guilt that poured through him like a bucket of ice. He tried to take it back, but his mouth didn't want to cooperate at the moment._

"_I…"_

_Cygnus didn't seem capable of speech so he simply stood up. It took him several tries, but then he responded. "I'll go repair the wards on your trunk."_

_Then Draco had entered and Cygnus had left. Harry was left feeling like he had said something terrible to the man who sacrificed every bit of his time to raise him._

"I…" And now it was Draco's turn to be lost for words. Harry shook his head.

"You don't have to respond to that. I know what you would say anyway," Harry said dismissively. "I knew my dad was right, I just had hoped he had been wrong." He looked at Draco and Draco flinched back from Harry.

"You…you're wrong!" Draco said finally, his mind trying to work the situation to his advantage. It wouldn't do for Harry to know just yet. Rowan was definitely a lot more perceptive than Draco had originally given him credit for.

"I thought he was… But he wasn't," Harry said.

"No! He is wrong! What makes you think he was right?" Draco demanded.

Harry sighed and leaned over, taking a sleep potion. He waved Draco out and said, "Perhaps I'll tell you later." Then he downed it and closed his eyes.

Draco was left feeling like he missed something very important.

-0-

Cygnus looked at the wards and then at the children in the dorm. None of them dared to approach him as he had been fixing the wards, but now that he was finished, one of them walked towards him and extended a hand.

"Theodore Nott. Nice to meet you, Rowan," the boy said, frowning a little, but remaining still.

Cygnus looked the boy over, mentally taking note of his clothes and his posture. Then he extended his own hand and shook the boy's. "Cygnus Rowan."

"I heard that you were a Ward Master," Theodore said. He dropped his hand after Cygnus had let go before looking back at the wards. "The wards you put up are impressive."

"They are active wards. Have you warned your house? I will no longer put up with harassment towards my son and tampering with my wards," Cygnus said. "I care not for who they are or who their family is. If they tamper, they're dead."

"I have warned them," Theodore said, nodding. "I would like to ask you about your wards."

"I have a meeting with the Headmaster. I must go see him. Perhaps another time," Cygnus said, moving out of the dorm. Theodore looked at the wards on the trunk and gave a soft whistle.

"I'd like to see what he's done with the wards," Theodore said softly.

As it turned out, Theodore did get to see what Rowan had done with the wards. Only a minute after Rowan had left, Pansy Parkinson entered the boy's dorms and pointed her wand at the trunk.

"_Alohomora!_" She cried.

The trunk quivered and then exploded. Pansy was blasted back by the force of her own spell. Theodore snickered cruelly behind his hand, not at all feeling sorry for the girl. The trunk remained untouched.

Theodore knew that Flint and his gang wouldn't try cursing Harry when he slept anymore. Not after what they saw with the trunk and the troll. If a troll couldn't break through it, then there was no way that a student could.

Truthfully, Theodore was starting to respect the older Rowan. He was really quite clever. He had no doubt that if Cygnus Rowan was a Hogwarts student, he would be sorted into Slytherin.

-0-

Harry woke up next in his own bed in number four Privet Drive. He sat up a little, but winced when he found his head pounding and his body not wanting to respond to moving a few inches. He felt a hand press against his shoulders and one against his head and let them push him back down.

"Rest. The potions you took will help in the healing process, but it will take some time before you're completely healed," Rowan's voice came. Harry tried to crack his eyes open, but Rowan placed a hand over his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry tried to say, but it came out more of an "mm mmph". Rowan gave a soft laugh and said "Sleep".

Harry couldn't quite understand the words that his dad said, but he felt something tip into his mouth and he knew no more.

Cygnus lowered the vile of pain reliever and looked at Harry, his brow furrowed. He was no expert on head injuries and the witch in the Hospital Wing couldn't very well leave school. It looked like he would have to ask his work buddies for a good healer.

An owl later and Cygnus suddenly had a goblin standing in the middle of his kitchen. He didn't recognize this goblin and the goblin didn't seem to recognize him either. Instead, it simply said, "I was asked by Griphook to come visit the young Mr. Potter-Rowan about his health."

"Ah, Griphook would be the Potter's account manager," Cygnus replied. "Thank you for coming all this way. Would you like something to drink? Mr. Potter-Rowan is currently resting, as he should be."

"Thank you," the goblin said. "But no thank you. I should come to do what I was asked to."

Cygnus didn't fuss as the goblin, simply nodding and leading the goblin up the stairs. Goblins were always like this. Punctual, stiff, and completely inflexible to other's whims. It suited the banking business, but anything outside of it was harder to work with.

It wasn't until the middle of December did Cygnus let Harry return back to school. Since Harry had been gone, Cygnus had brought his homework to him as well as the required reading schedule. On days that Harry felt better, Harry would study and write the essays. Cygnus would fly them to Hogwarts when Harry was done. On says that Harry felt terrible, Cygnus would forgo the work and force Harry to sleep most of the day.

Harry arrived to the falling snow and the smell of Christmas in the air. There was only a week left in school, so Harry had decided that he wanted to make sure he was ready for the new semester. Though there was physically nothing wrong with him by the first week of December, Harry was sure that his dad had kept him back just in case of any latent symptoms.

But thanks to that, Harry had practiced all sorts of spells. He had worked with Cygnus with magic control and warding as well. His headaches and slurred speech had cleared up fairly quickly.

Harry was confident in his ability to cast any spell within his grade level.

He shut his trunk and touched the wards on it carefully. When Cygnus had brought him back home, he had taken his trunk back as well. Now that Harry was back, he needed to reactivate the wards. It was a bit of a pain since he was going to be leaving in a week or so for the holidays, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Harry had enough of the trapping and flying hexes. And apparently, so had his dad.

Draco was quiet through Harry's unpacking, but cornered him in the Common Room.

"Back, are you?" Draco asked, his blue eyes serious.

"Yes. For a week or so," Harry answered.

"Someone signed you up to stay over the holidays," Draco said. "I don't know who."

"Draco, are you trying to actually befriend me? Why would it matter to you where I'm going? For the record, I don't think I'm staying," Harry said, surprised. "To befriend me after you got snapped at... Did you really throw your pride down the drain?"

Draco's mouth opened and closed. "Wh… what?! What are you talking about?"

Harry gave him a blank look and said, "What are _you_ talking about?" Harry wondered if Draco forgot about all of their silent treatments through the months. Or perhaps he forgave him for snapping after he saved his life.

"You told me that I didn't know how to… how to be a _friend_," Draco snapped, his temper flaring.

"When was this?" Harry asked blankly, having no idea what Draco was referring to.

Draco's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Right after you woke up from the troll! Don't you remember?!" He wondered if this was some sort of nasty joke Harry had thought up of, but then Harry smiled sadly.

"I don't remember anything after that, Draco," Harry said honestly. "It's what head wounds will do to you. I was told I woke up and talked with you and dad, but I can't remember."

Draco's mouth resembled a goldfish. Then he puffed up and said, "Whatever. Let's go to lunch. Did you actually do studying while you were home resting? You're such a Ravenclaw!"

"I didn't want to be left behind," Harry responded defensively, frowning. "Besides, my dad wasn't about to let me lie around…"

"You could have gotten away with it," Draco said, scowling. "Mr. Head-Wound."

"Perhaps. But it wouldn't have been worth it in the end," Harry replied. "I still have to keep up with my training. So tell me what has happened since I left."

Draco went into full detail about what had occurred after Harry had left Hogwarts. Harry listened patiently, asking questions when needed and responding with his own stories about training.

"I've started working with brittle eggs," Harry said, nodding. "I'll have to ask my dad for some. He was still unsure whether he should take me back to Taiwan with my most recent injury. Apparently, it could be dangerous for me on an airplane."

"What in Merlin's pants is an air-o-plane?" Draco asked, frowning. "And why would it be dangerous? Why don't you take a portkey?!"

"Taiwan wards prevent magical travel, at least in most areas," Harry said simply. "I might just spend the holidays here in Hogwarts. Maybe I'll go home and my grandparents will come here to visit."

Draco's eyebrows raised. "You travel like a muggle?"

"Mm," Harry made a dismissive noise, not wanting to talk about the difference between muggles and magicals and debating who was better. "I need to practice with a wand. Apparently, the wards at my house makes wand magic very… unfriendly."

He winced a little, thinking about the large hole in their living room. Cygnus had finally let him go back to school so he could repair it. Harry wondered if Cygnus was going to use the repairing charm that he had read about.

Come to think of it, Harry noted that he had never seen Cygnus use a wand before. He wasn't even sure his dad had owned a wand. And anytime Harry was practicing spells in the house, Cygnus would leave the room. Harry wasn't sure what to think of it, so he simply remained silent. Maybe his dad just didn't like using wands.

Harry sighed a little as Draco dragged him out of the Common Room to lunch.

-0-

_**A/N: Read and review guys! Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**_


	7. The Dove

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 7: The Dove**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Beta: Cauchy! Big thanks to her for being my beta! This means less confusing words and spelling errors and brains flying around.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: Thank you all my reviewers! You inspire me!**_

_**Updates may come a bit slower. I'll still aim to update frequently, but I may have to push it back to once every two weeks. I have beta now, so hopefully things will be a little smoother.**_

-0-

Christmas was just another busy day for Cygnus, so Harry usually spent it reading or studying. For this year, Harry had really been looking forward to the trip to Taiwan, but in the end, Cygnus had decided to cancel the trip because of Harry's concussion.

Cygnus had given Harry the option to stay at school or go home. Harry chose to come home like many of the other students. At home, Harry wouldn't have to worry about random attacks and looking through his food for anything spiked. At home, Harry could study in peace, without having to share his room or the kitchen or the living room. At home, Harry could learn more about warding.

Since his dad had fixed the wards, no one had actually outright attacked him. Harry was sure that his little scuffle with the troll would have improved his reputation in Slytherin, but apparently that wasn't the case. Pansy had taken to telling anyone who would listen how flattened he almost got, never mind the fact that she hadn't actually been in the boys dorm, but somehow that had turned into the fact that "little Potter" was acting like a Gryffindor, which only increased the whispering and the rumors.

On the other hand, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had warmed up to Harry quite nicely. Harry could hardly walk down the hall without someone saying hello or waving at him. He had even been invited to the other tables during lunch, which he only agreed if he was allowed to bring Draco with him.

Draco, for some strange, inexplicable reason, had taken to following Harry wherever he went, keeping an eye out for him and helping him when he had trouble remembering what classes he had. From what Cygnus had told him, he had saved Slytherin house from a troll, so Draco's actions could have been gratitude, but he couldn't be sure.

Or maybe it had something to do with Harry _apparently _telling Draco he couldn't be a friend.

But now that Harry really thought about it, it was true that Draco had a very poor outlook on what friends were. He had minions in the form of Goyle and Crabbe. Not friends. He had people he could benefit from, but never someone to confide in. Since when had being in Slytherin meant that you would have to give up trusting others? When had cunning and ambition become backstabbing and betrayal?

Harry wasn't really sure if Draco was serious or not in being his friend, but by the end of the week, Harry was a bit sick of Draco being a little puppet. He turned to Draco after dinner and said, "Draco, can we talk?"

"Sure… Harry," Draco said, looking a little confused.

"I was just noticing… That you are… strangely close these days," Harry began, watching Draco for a reaction.

"Good friends are supposed to stick together!" Draco said, frowning just a little.

"I suppose…" Harry said, not able to refute the statement, but somehow finding it extremely uncomfortable. "So that's what you're doing…? Sticking together?"

"Yes! Is that a problem?" Draco insisted.

Harry thought that if there had been a problem, that he would just have to deal with it himself, as Draco didn't seem inclined to change his behavior. So Harry merely shook his head.

"Not really… It's just… It's a bit awkward… You're… really close," Harry said. "It makes me uncomfortable. Your constant hovering is distracting." He gave a soft sigh and shook his head. "Do you think you could back off? I mean, we only have a few days left together until the holidays."

Draco frowned and Harry hoped that he would at least consider his words before he shot it down. Draco didn't seem to be the type to just drop whatever he was doing because of a simple request. But to Harry's surprise, Draco merely nodded and said, "Sure, Harry. By the way, are you going home for Yule?"

Harry paused and then sighed deeply. "Probably only for part of it. I think that I'm going to come back early since my dad's going on a trip after Christmas."

"Yule," Draco corrected. "If you want, you can spend time in my manor. We can spend New Year together."

For some reason, warning bells set off in Harry's head. Harry had initially opened his mouth to accept, but then paused, considering Draco's offer. "Thanks Draco," he said slowly, "But I think I'll stay here. I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"You wouldn't be!" Draco said, shaking his head. "I'll even let father know!"

"Thanks Draco, but I really shouldn't," Harry said, shaking his head.

"But you'll be here, all alone!" Draco said, a determined scowl on his face. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

Harry merely shook his head, done with talking about the conversation. He looked at the window and sighed, thinking about what his dad had planned.

Christmas wasn't a big thing in Cygnus' household. Instead, New Years was the grand holiday. Chinese New Year especially, as that was usually much more extravagant. The red firecrackers that Cygnus hung as well as the fruit offerings that he placed in front of a temple in his room always looked wonderful. They would go to muggle London and watch the Dragon Dance and the performances by muggles. Red lanterns always hung around the streets during the Chinese New Year holiday and there was always abundant of food to eat.

Harry was a bit sad that this year, he wouldn't get to go. Cygnus had told him that he would send him some food, but it wasn't the same without Cygnus there.

He shook himself out of his daze and looked at Draco. "So, what is Yule like in Malfoy Manor?"

Draco busied himself through the next hour, talking about the holidays. By the time he was finished, he had completely forgotten about trying to convince Harry to come during New Year.

-0-

Harry woke up on Christmas morning to the smell of cookies. He smiled a little, marveling at the early hour that Cygnus had gotten up. It wasn't even light yet, but Harry was too excited to sleep. He shot out of bed and brushed his teeth quickly before flying down the stairs.

"Presents!" Harry exclaimed when he saw the wrapped gifts under the tree. Cygnus had put up ornaments on the tree, mostly little doves and silver bells. Harry knew that Cygnus hated decorating a tree for Christmas and was touched that his dad had actually done it this year. Harry suspected it had something to do with his injury.

"Good morning to you too," Cygnus said, poking his head out the kitchen. "The presents can wait. Why don't you wash your hands for breakfast? I have made rice porridge and brought out pickled radish for you."

"And pork sung?!" Harry asked, perking up, his attention ripped from the presents.

"Yes, and pork sung. I also went out and bought the roasted peanuts you liked," Cygnus said, but Harry had already shot into the dining room for breakfast.

After breakfast, Harry ran back to the living room, admiring the tree and the little shimmering lights. The weather outside was cold, but the fire was going strong in the fireplace. Cygnus came out of the kitchen and placed a pair of scissors on the table.

"I kind of expected you to be inspecting the presents," Cygnus said honestly, smiling. "Go ahead and open them. I've checked them for anything dangerous. It looks like all of them are safe."

Harry didn't even pick up the scissors before he tore into the first package.

It was a pretty good haul this year. Apparently, Neville had not forgotten that Harry had rescued his remembrall, despite his abysmal memory and sent a packet of chocolates and candies. Draco had sent him two boxes, one with dragon hide gloves and the other with a green scarf, which, according to the card that Draco had written, was knitted by his mother. Malfoy senior sent him a rather expensive looking cloak that, according to the tag, retained heat in the winter and remained cool in the summer. Along with the generous gift was a note.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I would personally like to write to you to thank you for protecting Draco from the troll during All Hallow's eve. We are currently investigating how the troll got in and traumatized so many children that night, but regardless, thanks to your quick thinking and actions, my wife and I are grateful that the damage was minimal. We hope you recover quickly._

_I have enclosed a cloak for your personal use as thanks. It will adjust to you as you grow older._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

"Well, that's friendly," Harry said, smiling a little, nodding happily. "How useful. Right, Dad?"

But Cygnus was staring at the cloak and then at Harry, a curious expression on his face. He picked up the cloak and looked at Harry, frowning.

"Why did he send you something this… extravagant," Cygnus asked, looking a little suspicious.

"Maybe he's grateful that I was able to save the Slytherins? This includes Draco, by the way," Harry said, shrugging, reaching out to take the cloak back, but Cygnus pulled it away, out of Harry's reach. Harry scowled and said, "Give it back! He gave it to me!"

"Harry," Cygnus said, in a tone that left little room for argument. Harry felt his irritation grow as Cygnus refused to give the cloak back, but didn't verbally respond. "Harry, I told you before, but you might have forgotten. The Malfoys don't make friends."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Cygnus continued.

"They make allies. Not friends. They are the kind of people who respect people for power and blood. Blood-Purists," Cygnus said, sighing deeply. "Gratitude isn't something they feel lightly. Giving you such a lavish gift isn't something they would do lightly." He looked at the cloak suspiciously, frowning. "They would have some motive for doing so."

"Is it _that_ hard for you to assume that they feel gratitude?" Harry snapped, snatching the cloak back. Cygnus sighed.

"Haven't you ever heard that if something is too good to be true, it probably is?" Cygnus asked, shaking his head. "Consider this, Harry, what would they gain by giving you this? What would _Lucius _in particular gain?"

"You're crazy," Harry said, shaking his head, marveling at the texture of the cloak. "Maybe he just wanted to pay me back for saving Draco."

"Harry," Cygnus said, placing a stern hand on Harry's shoulder. "You saved _all_ the Slytherins. So why, then, was _Lucius_ the only one to give you a thank you cloak?"

Harry paused at that, now thinking about what he knew of the Malfoys. Harry knew that if he didn't play along with Cygnus, Cygnus would confiscate the cloak and not give it back until he thought things through.

Cygnus was right in that he had saved all the Slytherins. That much was clear, considering that Cygnus and Draco, along with the school had a unanimous agreement on that. Draco had been acting funny since he came back from his healing, but Draco had said that it was because Harry had apparently told him he would make a lousy friend. So Draco was putting in an effort to be friendlier. Maybe he just didn't know how to be friends, which was why he was acting so… oddly stalker-like.

But that wouldn't really have anything to do with Lucius' behavior, would it? Draco wouldn't have told his father that he was stalking Harry—that'd be extremely awkward and would probably go badly. Lucius might have truly been grateful, but other possibilities?

"He… is trying to befriend you?" Harry suggested. "I'm your son, after all."

"He had the opportunity on November the second," Cygnus replied. "I saw him and actually spoke with him briefly. He seemed extremely worried about his son, which is natural, considering that a twenty foot mountain troll broke into the safe zone of the Slytherin Dorms."

"Then why wouldn't he be grateful," Harry asked, annoyed. "You said it yourself! He was worried about Draco. Considering I saved Draco, means that he would be grateful to me!"

"Humor me, Harry. Why else?" Cygnus insisted. Harry felt his irritation melt a little at the serious expression on his dad's face.

"Ummm… He wants to impress me? Show off? Flash off how much money he has?" Harry suggested, now rattling things off in his head.

"Contrary to what you might believe, we are just as well off as the Malfoys. I had no reason to spend all that money, so I didn't bother buying a manor or any expensive gifts," Cygnus said, shaking his head.

"Gifts come from the heart, right," Harry said, obviously parroting something he had heard many times before. "Okay, so not bragging or showing off. Maybe Lucius Malfoy wants to thank me in Draco's stead."

"Draco is more than capable of doing it himself," Cygnus said, shaking his head. "Why would Draco need such a roundabout way to thank someone when he could just do it himself?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted.

Cygnus nodded, leaning back in the chair. "That's alright. It might be gratitude, though I think it's more likely that Lucius is trying to… endear the Malfoys to you."

"Endear…?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"That's right," Cygnus said. "You are quite famous, if you recall. You have a father who can write powerful wards—a profession that is both rare in the British Magical community and difficult to master. I think that Lucius is trying to make you a political pawn in his life. You contain quite a bit of influence in the Ministry. My dealings with them proved that much."

"What kind of dealings?" Harry asked.

"Adopting you formally in the Magical Community," Cygnus said, propping his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "You'd be surprised the effect your name has in the Ministry. I merely suggested that I was the better alternative and I had the pictures and the skill to prove it. The downside to this, is that the Ministry is now more aware of me. Fortunately for me, my business was with Gringotts alone. However, they may have informed Albus Dumbledore of this development by now."

"Oh… That's bad, right?" Harry asked, frowning.

"For him, perhaps," Cygnus said, "But it's too late now. We're a true family, magically and non-magical." He smiled lightly and sighed deeply. "So, Lucius Malfoy had asked me to ward something of his. I assume he was attempting to assess my ability."

"Did you?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"No. I just said I was busy," Cygnus replied. "But he will likely ask the goblins and serve as my client. I do not much care for the man and his rather sneaky ways, but if I'm getting paid, I suppose I'll do it."

"You told me that wards were… difficult to write…" Harry said slowly. "What about them makes them so difficult?"

Cygnus paused before taking the ripped wrapping paper. He smoothed it out on the table and picked up a pen from the holder.

"Listen, Harry," he said gently, writing two characters on the table and then three runes around them. "Look at these two characters. What is different about them?"

Harry looked over the paper and then paused a little, pointing to the character on the left. "This one has an extra dot… and this one is a little farther to the left than that one."

"Good," Cygnus said, nodding approvingly. "That actually makes a difference."

"It does?" Harry asked blankly. Cygnus nodded.

"I told you in November month that I didn't want you to be a wardist. It's very difficult and disastrous if wrong." Cygnus placed a hand on each of the patterns and they both shined a white color. He smiled and placed the paper on the ground before throwing the scissors at one of the wards. It passed through one of the wards and skidded on the ground, encased in a layer of ice. "The way that each character and rune is written is very specific. While I'm glad you saved the lives of your classmates, you did a very dangerous thing by placing your magic in the ward.

"It is true that since I shared my magic with you when you were a baby, you can fuse with my magic," Cygnus said, looking very serious. He picked up the scissors and placed it on the second ward, activating it with a flick of his hand and attempting to push it out of the ward with his hands. The scissors remained stuck fast to the ward. "Because of that, I was able to supply you with magic when you suffered magical exhaustion from the backlash of a failing ward."

"But you work for Gringotts. Do those wards not fail?" Harry asked, looking worried.

"Anyone can power a ward after it's written," Cygnus replied. "I do not power it. The goblins power the ward. That way, even if I die, the wards will remain. For this house, the wards will fall until someone powers them again." He smiled a little dimly. "I write wards and they find people to power it. It's the same thing in Taiwan. The wards are keyed to whoever is in the area and transferred if they leave the area. Or they fall, with no power source."

"You told me that my trunk was warded heavily, right? Why did it fail, then?" Harry asked.

"The trunk was fine, wasn't it?" Cygnus asked, nodding. "What failed was your magic. Wards are extension of your magic. You haven't the control or the strength to withstand impact from trolls."

"But you… you ward my trunk and it activates a lot!" Harry protested. "Do you feel the impact? How do you go about acting like nothing is wrong?"

"Control and experience, mostly," Cygnus said, picking up the next present. "Here. This isn't the time to talk about that. But for the record, the answer is no, I don't feel the impact. I am disconnected enough where only complete obliteration of the ward will cause a backlash."

"Mmm…" Harry took the present and started unwrapping it. Any further questions were forgotten in the joy of obtaining a multi-case trunk. Before Harry even knew what he was doing, his arms were around Cygnus and his body was hugged to his dad's. "Thanks, Dad."

Harry wasn't positive, but he could swear that Cygnus' cheeks reddened a little.

"Um… you're welcome," Cygnus said, nodding a little. Harry smiled at him and marveled over his new gift, not even seeing the last present under the tree. It didn't escape Cygnus' notice though, so he scooped it up and offered it to Harry.

"Oh, yes! I did get you a present from school," Harry said, smiling widely. "I'll go bring it down—what's that?"

"The last present," Cygnus said. "For you."

Harry paused, putting down his multi-case trunk and picking up the present. It was light and, by the texture, it felt like some kind of cloak. He unwrapped it carefully, looking inside before pulling out a large silvery cloak.

"Hmmm?" Cygnus looked interested, looking at the card that fell out. He looked up just in time to see Harry's body vanish into thin air and his jaw dropped.

"What?" Harry asked, blinking, unaware that he was simply a floating head suspended in midair.

"Look down," Cygnus said faintly, looking pale.

Harry looked down and gasped. "Wha…what?! I'm… invisible!"

"It came with a note," Cygnus pointed. Harry snatched up the fallen paper and frowned at it, reading the loopy script.

"Who would send something like this to me?" Harry asked, frowning deeply. "Is this one of those… too good to be true?"

"Quite likely," Cygnus said, touching the cloak. He recoiled sharply, surprised and slightly alarmed.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, frowning.

"This fabric is infused with wards I have never seen before. And the power on them… the power emitting from them is ancient… Something or someone who had placed the wards on this has greater mastery over wards than I do," Cygnus said, running through the wards he knew in his head. "A non-detection ward… An anti-summoning ward… And a ward linked to bloodline somehow…?"

"Huh… But it's harmless?" Harry asked, pulling off the cloak, looking slightly wary at it.

"Yes," Cygnus said, nodding. "There is a ward to prevent spells from attaching to it. Magic slides right off. There is nothing on this you should be worried about."

"When you said ancient… But for them to have held the ward active, they would need to be alive, wouldn't they?" Harry asked, frowning. "So whoever made it is still alive. You could always ask them about it…"

"I believe they are dead. The wards are ancient, but the magic powering it is quite recent," Cygnus looked confident. "It's strange; the wards are powered by magic… I'm guessing magic from who owns the cloak. Your magic, right now, Harry. But it's… muffled somehow."

"Muffled?"

Cygnus looked at Harry, tilting his head. "Like static. Something… or someone is covering it up. Whoever they are, they are quite powerful. That is the power I sense from this cloak."

"Hm…" Harry looked thoughtful, so Cygnus seemed compelled to relax him.

"Make no mistake, however, this cloak is a very nice gift. It isn't dangerous, and as the person didn't identify themselves, I can only assume that they are not expecting anything in return. Considering the note's contents, I would guess that this cloak's bloodline ward rejected whoever had owned it in the past," Cygnus said. "It rightfully belongs to you, if it did belong to your father."

"Oh… okay!" Harry smiled as he collected his presents. "I'm going to put these in my room."

"Make sure you wash up for lunch," Cygnus called.

Somehow, the idea of the handmade card seemed cheap in comparison to the lavish gifts that Harry had received today. Still, Cygnus loved it and placed it on the fridge to look at. That made Harry smile.

-0-

When Harry went back to Hogwarts, he was surprised to note that there were quite a few students that had stayed for the holidays. The tables had been pushed back to the walls for meals and Harry found himself sitting between Ronald Weasley and McGonagall for breakfast and dinner.

Harry rather enjoyed the free time, passing it by reading the many novels that were in the library. He preferred mystery and adventure over the dry and boring textbooks he was supposed to be reading, so he decided to push the reading of his texts until after school started again. At night, Harry would often go to the hallways and watch the falling snow through the windows, Hedwig sometimes flying down from the Owlery to join him.

It was on a cold winter January night that Harry had wandered out of the dorms and headed to the halls to watch the falling snow. He leaned against the glass, thinking about how busy Cygnus seemed to be and how strong the wards on his trunk _really_ were.

Now that he knew the true nature of wards, he was a lot more wary of people getting near his trunk. He didn't want to be responsible for causing Cygnus to go into magical exhaustion while he was away at work. It was true that the wards had held up spectacularly against the attacks all through the fall and the troll, but that didn't mean that the wards didn't have a breaking point.

Even if they didn't, Harry wasn't sure if the wards ever needed to be recharged. From what Cygnus told him, he was pretty sure that it was possible to charge them long distance, as Cygnus had very good control of his magic.

Harry let his feet guide him into the empty Transfiguration classroom. He walked up to the window, still pondering, giving a deep sigh. How could Cygnus live, knowing that any wards that shattered could mean the death of him? His dad's life was constantly hanging in the balance, between life and death. Harry wondered why Cygnus decided to pursue a career in warding. Certainly not because he liked the feeling of living on the edge.

He watched the snow for a few minutes more before he turned away and decided that he wanted to head to bed. To his surprise, he came face to face with a large mirror, or at least, what he thought was a large mirror. He saw no reflection in it. Harry glanced up at the top of the mirror: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

Harry paused and then stepped in front of it, frowning a little. He touched the non-reflective glass, curious about the strange mirror. It showed him nothing. Not even his own reflection. He turned away from it and jumped a little as he saw Dumbledore by the door.

"Hello, Harry. Isn't the falling snow beautiful?" Dumbledore asked serenely.

"If you want to call it that," Harry replied, trying to calm his panicked heart. Dumbledore smiled.

"So… You, like many before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said, sitting in a chair next to Harry. "Have you come to realize what it does?"

"It is a rather poor mirror, that's what it is," Harry said exasperatedly, tired and really wanting to head to bed.

Dumbledore paused, thinking. "What do you see in this mirror, Harry?"

"Nothing," Harry answered honestly. "Not my reflection, that's for sure. So it makes for quite a poor mirror." He turned back to the mirror.

Harry jumped, startled immensely as he saw Dumbledore's reflection. Curiously, he did not see his own. It was as if he had become… invisible…

Dumbledore's chuckle broke Harry out of his thoughts.

"It shows nothing less… than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts," Dumbledore said slowly, as if he had something on his mind. "You said you see nothing though… how curious…"

"Yes," Harry replied, uncomfortable with the strange mirror. "I have no deep desires, so I suppose it'd make sense that it didn't show me anything." He shifted uncomfortably, frowning. "But… I do have desires… I wonder why the mirror didn't show me those…"

Like the desire to keep Cygnus safe and without the need to risk his life by warding his things. Like the desire to understand Draco better. Like the desire to make more friends…

So why didn't the mirror reflect those desires?

Harry hesitated before heading towards the door. He wondered what Cygnus would see in the mirror. What Draco would see. Harry was positive that Dumbledore was here to spy on his movements, but he wasn't sure how a mirror would help Dumbledore.

Dumbledore watched Harry Potter-Rowan leave with some apprehension. He looked at the mirror, turning away from the scene that was long lost to him. Harry said that he saw nothing… what did that mean?


	8. The Crow

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 8: The Crow**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Beta: Cauchy! Big thanks to her for being my beta! This means less confusing words and spelling errors and brains flying around.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: Seven chapters and almost 100 reviews! Thanks guys! I love you all!**_

_**Thanks for being patient! Here is a new chapter. I'll hopefully be posting weekly again, as I am finally caught up.**_

-0-

Draco woke with a chilling start. He buried his head in his hands, his bottom lip between his teeth. He was covered in sweat, his body both chilling and burning. He could still see the enormous troll, the giant club, and _Potter_ defending him. He could still hear the resounding _**smack**_ against the stone walls of the Slytherin Dorms, the roars of the troll, and his own screams. He could still see Potter slumped on the ground, unmoving, blood and brain matter pouring out of his head. Except this time, he had not survived.

The nightmare had played over in his head, again and again, Draco always dragged down on the Lift Debt he owed Potter; that he died with him. He knew it was unreasonable—the Life Debt, even if Potter had died, wouldn't drag Draco down or kill him, but Draco felt a shiver play through his body and looked at his clock. It was still very early. Draco struggled to wash away the memories that came with having Harry almost flattened by the troll and the nightmarish aftermath. He needed the extra three hours of sleep to make sure he would be awake for the New Year ball.

Life Debts were ruled by magic. So those with Potter's magic—namely his children, would inherit the Life Debt. Potter, as a child, had no children, unless Potter had been doing something that Draco wouldn't like to imagine behind closed doors…

Having Harry nearby seemed to quell the nightmares somewhat. It was partially why Draco had been so insistent that Harry stay with his family for the holidays, but Harry had refused. Since Harry wasn't here, Draco had to suffer through the nightmares.

It was all Harry's fault, now that Draco thought about it. If Harry hadn't acted like the hero, Draco wouldn't have these crazy nightmares about him dying or waking up at impossible hours. He wouldn't have bags under his eyes, sweat pouring from his body, and the echoing screams.

_This couldn't go on,_ Draco thought. He had to find a way to sleep peacefully through the night. Harry wouldn't always be around to soothe his nightmares, and he wasn't going to worry his mother any more than he already had!

Draco fell into fitful sleep, waking up mere hours later.

-0-

Dumbledore sighed deeply as he saw the letter from the Ministry. Harry Potter had been adopted by Mr. Cygnus Rowan. Apparently, the young wardist was quite aware of his situation, and had taken action to adopt Harry officially.

Dumbledore had miscalculated. He had expected Cygnus to consult someone before stepping up to adopt Harry. Cygnus was, after all, not well-versed in British culture.

Well, Cygnus would have been ignorant of British Culture ten years ago. After spending so much time in Britain, he would have definitely picked some things up. But Cygnus was also quite a shut in. The only beings he talked to outside of his home were muggles and goblins. Muggles would know nothing about magical adoption, but Dumbledore supposed that the goblins could at least direct Cygnus to where he should look to begin the process. It was very likely that Cygnus had taken that route in his quest of adopting Harry.

It was also possible that Cygnus had read books on British Magical law or appealed to the Taiwan Magical community. Adopting an orphan wasn't hard and, to Dumbledore's dismay, it did not require permission from his magical guardian, as long as the adopter in question could reasonably provide for the adoptee. Cygnus, being a warding specialist, would be quite rich, as warding was something of a lost art in Britain. Goblins would pay him well and stay on his good side for as long as possible.

This meant that Dumbledore had to revise his plan. He had to place Cygnus close to him so Cygnus wouldn't think that joining Voldemort was a good thing. That way, by extension, Cygnus would tell Harry to fight against Voldemort, as that would remove the threat looming over their heads.

However, Cygnus was quite a fickle man. He didn't like the Britain magicals—that much was clear, but he was willing to work for their bank. Cygnus also didn't seem to be the kind of person who was impressed with titles or money, though he possessed both. He was a hard man to read, even with Legilimency. If Albus was to gain his trust, then he would have to do it the old fashioned way.

Granted, befriending the man was probably a lot easier than Albus thought it would be. Cygnus didn't seem unreasonable or cruel in any sense. He would not willingly throw Harry into danger. So it should be relatively simple to convince him to join the Order.

There were two things wrong with Albus' current plan. One, Cygnus had a rather negative viewpoint of Albus at the moment. Albus knew he should have told Cygnus about the magical adoption, but at the time, it had seemed like the more advantageous option was to remain silent. That mistake had cost Dumbledore.

Two, the troll in the dungeon, the endangerment to Harry and all the other Slytherins… Needless to say, Cygnus had not been impressed. While it was a good idea to try to get Cygnus to ward the dungeons, Albus didn't think that Cygnus would truly do it. Cygnus had proved that he cared far more about his own child's safety than about the other children, as the wards Cygnus had set up were on the trunk that belonged to Harry. Cygnus had anticipated dangers or, quite possibly, known that being the Boy-Who-Lived would attract all kinds of attention.

Dumbledore had yet to give Cygnus an answer on who had let the troll in. Privately, Albus agreed that the troll had to have been let in by one of the staff members, but no one had any idea who. Albus was very tempted to use Legilimency against Quirrell, but he was slightly hesitant to do so. Quirrell was already so mentally and emotionally fragile. Breaking into his mind might damage the man beyond repair.

Dumbledore sank into his chair. And then there was the problem of Harry's lack of desire, as had been shown by the Mirror of Erised.

Originally, the mirror had been placed there so that Dumbledore could see what kind of person Harry was. There was nothing more telling about someone's personality than a person's desires. One who sees oneself surrounded by money is greedy and one who sees a possible future has a goal.

In his own case, Dumbledore knew that his wish for the past to be undone revealed his selfishness. Dumbledore wondered what would Cygnus see in such a mirror.

Cygnus wasn't someone who was particularly greedy. He also didn't seem like a man who made lasting friendships. That being said, it was very possible that a deeper friendship he had in the past had ended in misfortune. It was also possible that he was keeping in touch with a friend over muggle mail.

Harry was the main problem though. If he didn't see a desire, then what did that mean? It wasn't just the lack of desire though, it was the lack of… _self_. Harry didn't appear to be lacking any self-confidence or self-awareness, so what would cause the mirror to show him absolutely _nothing_? What exactly did _that_ mean? Did it mean he had no deep desire of his heart? Or that what he desired was to disappear?

Dumbledore sighed, but Fawkes gave a musical thrill, looking at him curiously. Dumbledore smiled and raised a hand to pet the phoenix.

"You know," he said lightly, looking at the magnificent bird. "I think I should speak to Cygnus more. He seems like a reasonable person."

Fawkes gave a trill of agreement.

-0-

Classes resumed. Draco had, once again, taken to following Harry around, but Harry had taken to avoiding the other boy. For some reason, that had made Draco even more insistent on following him. Harry caught him sliding back the curtains at night to check if he was there and staking him out between classes.

Harry put up with it. He did his best to ignore the looks that other classmates gave him and the strange glances Snape shot at him during Potions.

In fact, it wasn't until early May when Harry finally had a chance to get rid of Draco for a few brief hours in the day. Professor Quirrell had asked him to stay behind class so Harry had told Draco to move on to Herbology without him.

"Professor… Dum-Dumbledore would li-like a word wi-with you," Quirrell stammered, offering Harry a note. Harry sighed, opening the note and reading the short message.

_Please come to the Transfiguration Classroom tonight at seven._

"Did he say what he wanted, sir?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"N-no," Quirrell quivered. Harry nodded and sighed.

"I'll be there. Should I come alone or is it alright to bring Draco?" Harry asked, folding the paper.

"I-I think you should come a-alone," Quirrell said. "Professor Dum-Dumbledore may speak about-about private matters."

Harry nodded, sighing deeply. "Alright then."

Cygnus didn't trust Dumbledore, so Harry was suspicious of him as well. Harry debated on not showing up or asking Cygnus for his advice, but for Hedwig to fly to and back within the few hours he had left would put stress on his poor owl. In this case, Harry tried to think of what Cygnus would do.

Cygnus wasn't a particularly trusting person. He would definitely leave the house with some kind of protective ward. Cygnus would also make sure to arm himself with some kind of weapon, most likely his physical abilities in martial arts. In Harry's case, he could bring his wand, but he felt that it might be a bad idea. If things got violent, Harry was positive that Dumbledore knew more spells and hexes than he could ever dream of. Harry needed the upper hand in a different way.

Perhaps… it would be better to appear unarmed. After all, Dumbledore was a sucker for those who appeared weak and helpless, right? And if things got rough, Harry could always use his wandless magic. Dumbledore may know about it, but he had no idea the extent of his control.

Harry tucked his wand into his bag. It would be better to have his wand close by, though to remain visually unarmed would be an advantage.

It was a few minutes to seven when Harry arrived in the Transfiguration Classroom. Dumbledore showed up precisely at seven. Harry was in the middle of fantasizing what to do if Dumbledore had not shown up when the man walked through the doors, bright blue robes and all.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, smiling gently at him. "I see you got my note from Professor Quirrell."

"I was debating on not showing, considering that my dad isn't here," Harry said honestly, scowling a little. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Do you remember what I said in the beginning of the year regarding the third floor corridor?" Dumbledore asked, apparently not at all bothered about Harry's mood.

Harry fingered his book bag and frowned. The wards were inactive at the moment, but Harry could activate them at any moment's notice. It was also inconspicuous enough that Dumbledore wouldn't question why he had it. All Harry had to say was that he had been in the library studying. "What about it? You said something along the lines of it being out of bounds."

Dumbledore nodded. "You see, I had brought something to the school and needed to hide it here."

"Why tell me?" Harry asked warily.

"Because I wish to show you what it is. I brought it here to protect it and would greatly benefit if you were able to ask your father about it too," Dumbledore said calmly, his blue eyes twinkling.

Harry scowled and pushed up from the wall he was leaning against.

"Then I suggest you contact my father directly," Harry said, his tone icy, "I don't appreciate you trying to use me like this."

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. "I would, but, you see, I found out this morning that someone was trying to steal the stone. It would be very risky to leave it unguarded for the time being. I was wondering if I could borrow your trunk, but it would be optimal if you saw where I was keeping it first."

Harry paused and nodded slowly. This reasoning made sense, and, though Harry didn't like it, he grudgingly admitted Dumbledore had a point. He wouldn't want to leave some dangerous artifact unguarded and, to Harry's knowledge, Cygnus was the only warding specialist that Dumbledore knew. Cygnus _had_ mentioned that warding was rare in magical Britain. And now that Harry knew that for every object that Cygnus warded he might _die_ from it, it was no wonder.

"Fine," Harry said, frowning. "Let's go and see where my trunk would be placed then." He followed Dumbledore through the mostly deserted corridors. They arrived on the third floor relatively quickly. Dumbledore was taking strong strides, forcing Harry to jog behind him to keep his pace.

When Dumbledore arrived on the third floor, he opened a door. There was a monstrous three headed dog inside, but that barely fazed Dumbledore. He merely flicked his wand and transfigured a plank of wood into a harp, enchanting it to play. The dog swayed before slumping on its side, fast asleep.

Harry gaped a little as Dumbledore opened a trapdoor and gestured for Harry to jump.

"The bottom has Devil's Snare," Dumbledore said kindly, holding his wand. "I will close the trapdoor behind you. Just try not to struggle. Have you learned about Devil's Snare?"

"In Herbology," Harry said, jumping. He would have waited for Dumbledore to jump first, but he really didn't want to be in the same room as the three headed dog for any extended period of time. After all, Harry didn't have any food to offer it but his own flesh.

His book bag swung against his side as he landed and Harry relaxed against the slithering plant. It released him after Harry remained still and let him pass through, relatively unharmed. Dumbledore arrived just a few seconds later, lighting a fire instead of waiting for the plant to release him.

The fluttering of wings made Harry look up, frowning. Dumbledore smiled kindly.

"Can you fly, Harry?" he asked. "I know you didn't have much time to during your first flying lesson. Have you practiced at all?"

"No," Harry said shortly.

"That is alright, I'm sure you'll do fine," Dumbledore said, his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry let the old man guide him, slightly regretting the fact that he had not brought his wand in his pocket. Having it in his bag meant that it wasn't readily accessible.

"Should I take my wand out?" Harry asked, looking at Dumbledore.

"No," Dumbledore said. "You won't need it on a broom." He opened the next door and Harry was greeted with hundreds of flying keys. "There is a large silver key. Would you catch it for me?"

Harry frowned and swung one leg over the broom, but Dumbledore added.

"Would you like to leave you bag here? It would be less weight on the broom."

Harry didn't respond to the asked question, kicking off from the ground. His bag swung around when he turned, but Harry kept it mostly out of the way, withdrawing his wand when he was sure Dumbledore couldn't see him and sliding it in his pocket as he searched for the large silver key. He spotted it after a few moments, catching it and passing it to the old man, scowling.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said, the twinkle back in his eyes. He unlocked the door and headed inside. Harry followed him, wary, tossing the broomstick aside.

Standing by an old chessboard was a shock in the next room. Harry looked up at the tall, imposing figures of the game and gulped a little.

"We need to win," Dumbledore explained. "Let me do this. You just follow my lead."

Harry replaced a Knight while Dumbledore took the Queen's position. Harry looked on in amazement as Dumbledore took piece after piece. He was apparently quite good at the game, because in ten minutes, they were headed towards the next room.

Black fire sprung up in front of Harry towards the next room while purple fire sprung up behind them. Dumbledore didn't seem concerned though. Evidently, he knew what to do, so he offered the smallest bottle to Harry, smiling. "You go first, Harry," he said. "I'll refill it and come with you after."

Harry frowned and did as he was told. He tilted his head back and gulped the small bottle's contents and immediately shivered as he felt ice run through his veins. He passed through the black flames quickly, arriving at a room with a very familiar mirror.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said warily. "There's nothing but that mirror here. Unless that's the thing you wanted my trunk for, but I'm pretty sure it won't fit." He turned to the older man and Dumbledore gave a laugh. Harry felt his temper rise in irritation at the sound. Was Dumbledore mocking him or something?

"There is something special inside the mirror," Dumbledore explained, walking up to it. "I… put it in, but I cannot obtain it. But you can, with your pure heart."

Harry made an exasperated noise.

"Did you not learn in January that I can't see anything in this mirror?" Harry asked, scowling.

There was a silence as Dumbledore stared at him, seemingly surprised. Harry felt a chill run through his body, goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin, his stomach turning unpleasantly. He swallowed heavily, one hand flying to his book bag and the other hovering over his pocket.

There was no way Dumbledore could have forgotten something so important. Harry could still vividly recall that conversation, as the missing reflection seemed to be something that had shocked the older man at the time. Maybe Dumbledore was going senile in his age, or, more likely…

This was an imposter.

"Who are you?!" Harry demanded suddenly. "Why did you bring me here? Clearly state your demands."

A completely blank look crossed Dumbledore's face. Then his face morphed into a sneer, a foreign and creepy expression on the normally kind elder.

"So, Potter, you did notice. I had hoped it would last until I could obtain the stone, but I suppose this is far enough. I had wondered about your abilities," 'Dumbledore' said, his blue eyes narrowing. He flicked his wand and blocked the exit, walking closer to the mirror. "You said you saw nothing, hm? You really are completely useless in the end."

Harry activated the wards when the fake Dumbledore sealed the exit. He frowned deeply and took a step backwards, cursing himself internally for falling for such an easy trap. In being wary of Dumbledore, Harry had completely avoided him instead of look into his mannerisms and personality.

Whoever it was, Harry was sure that they wanted the stone, whatever this stone was. Draco would, no doubt, notice him missing, but since Harry had told him about his meeting with Dumbledore, he would not call attention to it until Harry ended up missing curfew. Perhaps Harry could keep the person behind the mask talking until then.

The only problem was, curfew was about an hour away.

"Why do you want the stone?" Harry asked, keeping his eyes on 'Dumbledore'.

"I wish to obtain it for my Master," the fake said, inspecting the mirror. "Unicorn blood has strengthened him enough where he no longer needs me as a host, but has a temporary form. To get him a more permanent one requires the stone."

Harry felt his body plunge into the imaginary icy water again and he slowly backed away. The fake Dumbledore seemed to be morphing, twisting, and changing his face. He became shorter, the vibrant blue robe appearing to drape over the figure. With a flick of his wand, it became a plain black robe.

It was Quirrell. Harry gaped in shock, his eyes wide in surprise.

This was a very different Quirrell than he had seen all year. Harry was half convinced that someone was impersonating the Professor like they had impersonated Dumbledore, but then Quirrell smiled, almost kindly.

"There, there, Harry. I brought you here to meet my Master," he said calmly. Harry realized with a jolt that Quirrell's trademark stutter was missing. "So even if you are useless to me, you can still die for my Master."

Quirrell slashed with his wand in a quick motion, firing spells at Harry. Harry screamed, backing away, trying to avoid the spells as they were being fired, but several of them hit the ward. He took out his wand, trembling, trying to think of a spell that would do sufficient damage, but his mind went blank in panic.

"_Wait,_" came a high, cold voice from the shadows. Quirrell immediately stopped and lowered his wand.

"Master, you are not strong enough," he said, turning.

"_Shut up, you incompetent fool,_" it said coolly. "_If you kill the boy, the Ward Master will never join us._"

"For-forgive me," Quirrell said, the stammer back in his voice. Harry's brain finally caught up with the situation and he started taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

So Quirrell wanted the stone, whatever this stone was. This stone would help his _Master_ who was coincidently in the same room as them, somehow. Harry failed to see how a rock would help anyone, but he decided to withhold judgment until he found out exactly what the rock was.

Quirrell impersonated Dumbledore, possibly copying his handwriting and giving it to him earlier in the afternoon. Then he brought him to the third floor to… what? Stare at a mirror? Harry had already told him that he saw nothing. Then he wanted to kill him…

But why? The only person who wanted him dead was Voldemort and he was dead, wasn't he? Cygnus had also expressed the dangers of the followers so it could have been a follower. But since when did Dumbledore hire Voldemort's followers to teach classes? Ironically, Defense Against Dark Arts. It would, at least, explain Quirrell's abysmal teaching. After all, he wouldn't want to teach them anything that could potentially be used against him.

This _Master_ apparently wanted Cygnus on his side. Enough that he had stopped Quirrell, who seemed especially determined to wipe him off the face of the Earth, from killing him. However, Harry was pretty sure the wards would hold, at least for a while.

So, who was his _Master_ anyway?

Harry got his answer as something walked out of the shadows. At first, Harry thought that it was a baby and the brief thought of _'Why is Quirrell taking orders from a baby'_ crossed his mind. Then he got a good look of the baby's face and recoiled.

It was pasty white, as if someone had taken a piece of white chalk and scribbled all over the poor baby's skin. Its eyes were blood red and it had no nose; just slits. It was wearing a pale blue robe, looking almost like a blanket on the small body.

"Harry Potter… We meet again," it said, its lips cracking just a little as it spoke.

Harry gaped and then cleared his throat. "Sorry… have we met?"

Before the strangely deformed baby could reply, Quirrell spoke.

"Forgive me for speaking out, Master, but would it be worth it for the Ward Master to be on our side. From my testing of the wards earlier in the year, they were quite weak," Quirrell said, looking at the baby, more specifically, its naked feet.

"You fool. That proves nothing against his true abilities," the baby said, the red eyes flashing at Quirrell, evidently displeased. "Why would such a young boy need such powerful wards against _schoolchildren_?" He baby looked at Harry again and spoke. "Potter, I can't believe you forgot me already. Is your memory truly so lacking? After I tried to kill you as a baby."

Harry's confused expression didn't change, but he did notice the flinch that Quirrell had given when the baby turned to him. Then he looked at the baby again and said, "Err… I don't remember what happened to me as a baby. Sorry." He looked slightly abashed. "I'm sure, whoever you may be, that you weren't the first person to try to kill me."

"I better have been," the baby hissed out, much like a snake. Harry blinked slowly and twitched in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall what had happened to him as a baby, but came up with nothing. Evidently, the baby's patience had run out because it almost flat out snarled: "I am Lord Voldemort, you daft boy! Unicorn blood may have strengthened me, allowed me to regain enough strength to move to a temporary vessel, but it will not be enough to give me a proper body."

Harry blinked slowly, confusion written all over his face. "But… you can't be Voldemort. It was said that the Killing Curse he shot at me had backfired. And it's the… _Killing Curse_ for a reason, right?"

Voldemort growled, but through the baby's mouth, it sounded mostly like a gurgle.

"There is more than one way to obtain immortality, boy!" he sneered. Harry looked blankly at him and scratched his head, frowning a little.

"Okay, so… you're immortal?" Harry asked, his brain trying to catch up with the situation. "Err… And the Killing Curse didn't kill you. That needs to be renamed." He flinched at Voldemort's glare, unnerved by the silted eyes and the lack of nose. "Er… What happened to your nose?"

Voldemort's eyes widened with shock. Quirrell snarled out a curse and Harry yelped as it hit the ward, alarmed. Then a raspy laughter cut through the air. Quirrell lowered his wand and looked at Voldemort, who seemed to be highly amused.

"You are not what I expected to be, Potter," he said, shaking his tiny head. "I need the stone. You will help me get it."

"And how would I do that?" Harry asked, wanting to hear the answer before he shot Voldemort down with "_So you can try to kill me? No thank you._" He had to keep them talking until the hour was up and Draco contacted someone. "I don't see anything in the mirror and I'm sure your… er, servant? Professor Quirrell? He could probably do a better job. I'm just a kid."

Voldemort looked at him and Harry stared back. Then Voldemort turned to Quirrell and said, "He speaks the truth."

Harry wasn't sure how Voldemort, if this was Voldemort, knew that, but he was, at least, immensely grateful that Voldemort seemed to be alright with letting him live.

Voldemort turned back towards Harry, eyed him with those blood red eyes, and added, "Potter, you can stop with the gratitude. I'm still going to kill you. Just not now."

"Because you haven't got the support of my dad yet?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth and looked rather embarrassed about his outburst.

"Well, well, the Potter _can_ think," Quirrell sneered. Voldemort ignored him.

"I very much doubt your father would agree to join me if I did curse you," Voldemort said calmly, flippantly. Harry wondered why Voldemort was sharing the information with him as the baby continued. "So I will… refrain from doing so."

"So… what now? I'm rather useless to you and Quirrell is… er…" Harry looked up at the older man with the wand and trailed off, not wanting to say "_useless too_" or "_a burden_" and risk getting cursed. Voldemort twitched, almost looking amused.

"We will retreat," Voldemort said after a long pause. "And find other means. Potter, you are smarter than you appear. I trust you will make the right decision when the time comes."

Harry wasn't sure what happened next, but within a few seconds the door to the exit had exploded inwards, Dumbledore rushing in. Harry raised his hands instinctively to block any flying wood or plaster from his face, but they bounced off the ward instead. Dumbledore was wearing a blindingly purple star-speckled robe and was holding his wand up. Quirrell and the creepy baby vanished somehow, disappearing into thin air.

Between Voldemort being a baby, Quirrell being a follower of Voldemort, and Dumbledore's apparent unneeded rescue, Harry was left feeling like he had missed something important.


	9. The Easel

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 9: The Easel**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Beta: Cauchy! Big thanks to her for being my beta! This means less confusing words and spelling errors and brains flying around.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: Harry is neither stupid nor daft. He simply doesn't believe that Voldemort is alive. Considering how many people think he's dead, would you? If someone who looked like a baby and claimed to be a dead person, no one would take them seriously. Harry doesn't either—he thinks someone is impersonating Voldemort.**_

-0-

"And that's what happened!"

Harry looked up at Cygnus, whose eyebrow had risen until it almost vanished in his hairline.

"So… let me see if I understood you correctly," Cygnus said carefully. Harry leaned forward on the Hospital Wing's bed, watching his dad's hands. Cygnus was folding and unfolding his napkin repeatedly, as he always did when something worried him.

When Dumbledore had shown up, he had insisted Harry be taken to the Hospital Wing to receive a check-up while he called Cygnus. Cygnus had come relatively quickly and Harry poured out the tale over a light evening snack. As Cygnus had not thrown Dumbledore out of the room, the old man had stayed to listen.

"You met a baby who claimed to be a dead guy," Cygnus started, "who wanted you to get a rock out of a mirror, which apparently the baby couldn't get for whatever reason. Because you couldn't get the rock, Quirrell wanted to kill you, which failed because of my wards. Then you had a chat with the not-yet-but-really-should-be dead man-baby and Dumbledore rushed in when they were about to leave anyway."

"That's about the gist of it," Harry said, nodding along. Cygnus looked at Harry closely, then turned to Dumbledore, who was standing by the door.

"So, what is this rock and why is it in a _school_ full of children?" Cygnus asked sharply, looking irritated. "If this is one of your convoluted plans to get Harry to become a weapon, Albus, I swear, you'll find yourself in deep trouble."

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately, stroking his beard as he thought.

"This stone was entrusted to me by an old friend of mine," he said finally. "It has the power to make someone immortal by producing the Elixir of Life and can create gold out of any metal. I simply wanted to keep it safe."

"For a man who is supposedly a war hero and is quite politically powerful, you sure lack resources when you need them the most. I repeat, _why is this object in a school full of children_?" Cygnus snarled, his fists clenched.

Dumbledore looked at the irate man in bewilderment and Cygnus exploded.

"You _stupid, stupid man!_" He bellowed. Harry jumped in alarm, wincing away from his father. "_What would you have done if Quirrell decided to KIDNAP someone for the stone?! Would you have left a CHILD to die for the "greater good"?! What would you have done if he had sealed children in a classroom and refused exit until you gave him the stone?!" _Cygnus took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes flashing, but then continued, in a calmer, but clearly still angry voice. Harry had never seen his father so furious before._ "_You are just _lucky _that I put up wards that would have prevented Quirrell from hexing my son or scrambling his brains! You have hundreds, maybe thousands of people who are willing to help you and you chose to _endanger the school and all the children_?! Are you _daft_?!"

Dumbledore's eyes were very wide by the time Cygnus finished his rant. McGonagall had burst in the Hospital Wing in the middle of it, holding up her wand but freezing as she processed the words. She was looking at Cygnus in astonishment, as if no one had questioned Dumbledore's judgment before. Harry was staring at his dad, completely bewildered at seeing Cygnus lose it.

"To be fair," Dumbledore said, looking very grim, "I didn't know that Professor Quirrell was the one who was assisting Voldemort."

Cygnus looked like he was about to have an aneurism, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

"But I will apologize for keeping the stone in Hogwarts. Clearly, I should have thought things through," Dumbledore continued. "I'm afraid I did not consider that Voldemort might do something like hold a hostage or kidnapping Harry."

"You fought in a _war_, Albus!" Cygnus sneered, his eyes flashing with anger. "Tell me that war was all pretty and no one had to die. Tell me that war is fair. Tell me that you did not witness children being killed or heartless cruelty."

Dumbledore didn't reply, his blue eyes grave. Harry knew the answer even without Cygnus saying it.

"You can't," Cygnus said, scowling. "You can't because you know what it's like. So tell me then, why should I continue Harry's schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? You've proven yourself incompetent as a Headmaster. First with the troll, then with Quirrell, and now with Voldemort and the supposed stone. Clearly, there leaves much to be desired in your decisions."

McGonagall gaped a little. "You… you can't do that! Hogwarts is one of the finest schools in the entire Wizarding world!"

"Harry's been here for less than a year and he's been repeatedly attacked, nearly died from magical exhaustion, nearly crippled from brain damage, almost beaten to a pulp, and one of your very own instructors was assisting a mass murderer. Woman! _Does this sound like a school you would like to send your children to?!_" Cygnus snapped at her. "_Stay out of it!_"

Dumbledore looked at Cygnus sadly, his eyes almost shimmering with tears. Cygnus felt his anger cool just a little.

"I know I have erred," Dumbledore said. "I am an old man, who has come to understand that many people are selfish. I could not find the heart in me to place the stone somewhere where someone might be tempted for its power or they would be targeted."

"So, what you're saying is that it's alright to target the children here?" Cygnus growled.

"Of course not." Dumbledore sank into a chair, looking older than Harry had ever seen him. "But the fact that I am here… and Voldemort has always been wary of my abilities… I never dreamed that he would infiltrate my school and try to steal it right under my nose."

"If that truly was Voldemort, I have my doubts, then you should know better than anyone," Cygnus said, his brow furrowed. "He's _desperate! Desperate men do irrational things!_"

"Voldemort has been missing for many, many years," Dumbledore said. Harry looked at McGonagall in surprise, wondering what she was doing. McGonagall was doing this strange flinching motion every time someone mentioned Voldemort's name.

"And he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to regain all of his strength, his magic, his body at once. Which you _provided_ and _baited_ him with!" Cygnus growled at Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded.

"Now that I know he is truly alive—" Dumbledore started, but Harry cut him off.

"But how are you sure it really was him?" Harry asked suddenly. McGonagall looked scandalized.

"Mr. Rowan! You will show your respect to the Headmaster—" she began, but Cygnus cut her off.

"He's not about to be his Headmaster for very much longer. I believe I told you to _stay out of it_!" Cygnus snarled. McGonagall promptly snapped her mouth shut, glaring at Cygnus darkly. Cygnus ignored it.

Dumbledore paused. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Couldn't it be someone impersonating him, like you were impersonated?" Harry asked. "Even if it wasn't, how are you so sure that it really was Voldemort? Voldemort was supposedly killed by a rebound _Killing Curse_. The Killing Curse is said to be one of the few spells that can't be blocked."

"And yet, you survived," Dumbledore said kindly. Harry frowned.

"Not sure how or why," Harry said. "Cygnus said there are some wards that can deflect strong curses and hexes, but the stronger the curse, the more magic it takes to deflect."

"If it were something as powerful as the Killing Curse, Harry," Cygnus said, looking at him. "It would have killed whoever was supplying it with power. The only exception would be if the wardist had as much control as I do in their magic supply, but even that is very, very risky. Too many spells or an overpowered one would overwhelm the ward and kill the wardist. I am no exception to that rule."

Harry looked worried, but turned back to Dumbledore. Cygnus reached over with a hand, gently holding Harry's hand as the boy's lip trembled a little.

"The Killing Curse rebounded because of your mother's love. Love is a very powerful magic," Dumbledore said gently. Both Cygnus and Harry gave him a stare that said 'are you for real?'

"…Harry, I would guess your mother read something about warding and tried it, not fully understanding what she was getting in to," Cygnus said after a pause. "Not everyone can learn warding and not everyone survives, even the initial warding practice."

"Okay, Dad," Harry said, nodding.

He thought of all the things Cygnus had told him about his birth mother and father and felt a rush of pride through him. Cygnus mostly got news from the goblins or papers and had dug up the papers back when he had first moved in to show Harry the stories.

Harry wondered if Dumbledore was truly that daft or if he thought of Harry as a stupid child. Love might have been a powerful motivator, but many children and parents were murdered in the last war. Where was the love then? Did those mothers or fathers somehow love their children any less than Lily loved him? Lily Potter wasn't unique in that aspect.

Cygnus stood up, his eyes serious. "Harry, do you want to stay here? If you don't then I can enroll you in another institution, perhaps one that takes pride in protecting their students from inside and outside dangers."

Dumbledore held his breath, feeling very much like he should protest, but unable to find a good reason to. Cygnus was completely correct in his decision and he has a very good reason to remove Harry from Hogwarts. The school's reputation would take a blow when the Boy-Who-Lived withdrew to transfer to another school, but Dumbledore would much prefer that then the potential damage that Cygnus, as Harry's father, could do if were he to inform the media of this.

The Prophet was always looking for a story to sell, no matter how many people's lives were ruined because of it. It was controlled, but only partially and Dumbledore was sure that this story was far more valuable than the amount of money that he could afford to pay for it to be suspended.

Harry looked at Cygnus before glancing at Dumbledore. Cygnus sighed.

"You don't have to decide right away," Cygnus said. "Make your decision during our trip and I'll decide the next course of action."

Harry nodded at Cygnus. Dumbledore spoke up, unable to take the silence anymore.

"I would like it very much if you would continue in Hogwarts, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "I understand that you are… wary of the dangers that this year exposed you to, but I suppose there was a reason that Cygnus had warded your trunk and your person."

Cygnus gave Dumbledore a glare and frowned deeply. Harry glared at Dumbledore.

"Those were wards against students. Not trolls or dead Dark Lords," Harry snapped. "My dad did not anticipate me getting attacked so savagely or your lack of protection to students who were under _your care._ My dad could have—"

"Enough," Cygnus said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I want you to finish up your exams this year and then we'll go on our trip. I would like your answer during the trip and will arrange the rest." His hand slid down to Harry's hand and he gripped it lightly. "For now, get some rest. You need it after the insanity that had transpired."

Cygnus glared at Dumbledore and stood up, dropping Harry's hand. "As for you, I believe I have quite a few more words for you. Such as you not putting in the paperwork for me to adopt Harry magically and leaving him an orphan for you to _manipulate._"

"My dear boy, I would hardly call it—" Dumbledore started, but Cygnus grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. Dumbledore could have easily hexed it off, but the vexed Cygnus seemed rather determined to take this conversation outside. McGonagall scowled at them as they left and Cygnus glared right back.

"Call it what you want, but it's _manipulating_." Cygnus finally spoke when they reached Dumbledore's office. "I want a full explanation. Now, Albus! And for the record, I am not 'your boy', 'your dear', or 'your' anything! Never call me such again. It's highly condescending and I don't appreciate the familiarity." He let the old man go and sat down in a chair facing the desk.

Dumbledore sat down, contemplating his choices. Cygnus was an adult, but there seemed to be cultural differences that he didn't understand. Such as how Cygnus didn't withhold information from Harry and preferred to tell him outright. Such as how Cygnus didn't seem to care that he was mentioning a relatively sensitive topic in front of a potentially scared boy.

"Why did you tell Harry about Voldemort so quickly? A child his age shouldn't need to know these things," Dumbledore said instead of answering Cygnus' unasked question.

Cygnus frowned at Dumbledore, knowing exactly what he was doing. Nevertheless, he answered the question. "A child his age also shouldn't have lived through attempted murder, but he has. I told him a truth, Albus, which might be a lost concept on you, but it isn't on me. It's the cold hard truth that he will learn sooner or later, and I would rather it sooner so he would not fall victim to the nasty rumors and crazy theories that the students conjure. Despite what you think, keeping this information from him will not help him. In fact, it could only hurt him."

Dumbledore paused, thinking. He was well aware of the types of rumors that spread around the halls of Hogwarts. Harry, with his kind of fame, could learn something about dealing with it, if Cygnus had given him a chance. "Surely you understand you will not always be there to protect him and to tell him things. You are not all-knowing."

"I am well aware, Albus," Cygnus sniffed, slightly offended. "The question is, are you aware that you aren't either? I know Harry best, as I raised him. I raised him to succeed, but as a child, he needs guidance. He needs the truth, or he will never understand why. What do you know about Harry?"

"He's a good child," Dumbledore defended. Cygnus rolled his eyes.

"So what? That doesn't mean he'll stay good. Especially if I lie to him," Cygnus said, "Albus, I am not a fool. You know next to nothing about my son because you never bothered to see him as him. You only see what you want him to be. I'm telling you right now, if you withhold information from me, Harry will never trust you. You want him to defeat Voldemort because of some stupid prophecy. I will not put him out on the battlefield. I will find another way. If that means that I go face Voldemort myself, then so be it."

"You are a dedicated father, but not the kind that Harry needs," Dumbledore tried to reason. "You must understand that telling him this early about his role will cut short his childhood. He needs gentle teaching."

"I put expectations on my son and he knows that," Cygnus said, frowning deeply, insulted. "Keeping secrets from Harry will not help him. It will not stop people from attacking him. Ignorance is not bliss, Albus. Answer my question. Why did you not tell me about the adoption process?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply and folded his hands. "To be honest, I was wary of you."

"That's bull," Cygnus said sharply. "I'm a wardist. I dare you to find someone better than a wardist to take famous Harry Potter in. There is no one better suited to protect a child."

"Not of your abilities. Of _you_," Dumbledore corrected.

"Of me? What is there to be wary about? Whether or not I would be a suitable father?" Cygnus raised an eyebrow. "You knew nothing about me and you judged me on my appearance? My job? My skills?"

Dumbledore smiled gently and leaned back in his seat. "Do you understand? You are a stranger to our lands."

"Harry was a _baby_. I doubt he'd know the difference," Cygnus said. "And why would my foreign background matter to you? You are not Harry's grandfather, his father, or his godfather. Such a decision shouldn't matter to you."

"As a close family friend…" Dumbledore said thoughtful. "It matters to me simply because I care."

"You care about what? Your ability to control Harry? Or Harry's happiness? Which is it, Albus, because it certainly isn't his happiness," Cygnus asked. He seemed exhausted. "I tire of your games, old man. You're not doing us any favors by hiding such a thing, so why bother? Plus, you are no longer in a position in Harry's life where you can decide such a thing for him. You want to use Harry to kill Voldemort. I don't agree with this, but for the sake of argument, let's say that I was out of the picture. What in the world would you have planned for that poor child?"

"It's for the greater good," Dumbledore sighed. "You weren't here at the time, but Voldemort was a nightmare to everyone in Britain. You do not understand the fear and terror that people experienced. The horror."

"I imagine it is exactly what war is like," Cygnus said, frowning. "Harry stopped all that, but Voldemort will rise again. So what? You want to throw Harry into that horror?"

"You are still young. You don't understand," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

"Don't patronize me," Cygnus hissed. "I may be far younger than you, but it does not mean I have not experienced war or suffering." He glared deeply at Dumbledore and then looked away. Dumbledore looked taken aback, as if he had not expected that kind of response.

"Albus, tell me, do you honestly care what happens to Harry? To any of the students in your care?" Cygnus asked quietly. "From what I can tell, the answer is 'no'. Can you say something that will prove me wrong?"

Dumbledore looked at his hands that were still folded. "I want the best for children. It's just… I know that some lessons have to be learned the hard way. Through experiencing them. There is a time to tell the truth, but I'm afraid that it isn't now. I fear, telling Harry too early would impact his mentality as a child."

"Who are you to tell me that? I know my son better than you do. Albus, I prepare for the worst. That includes the possibility of my death. Death is one of those cruel experiences that Harry will, sooner or later, have to deal with. _You _haven't even experienced that yet. Are you trying to get others to? Are you trying to get _children_ to?" Cygnus sighed heavily.

"I am a coward that ran away from the truth," Dumbledore said. "Yes, even death."

"I will not let Harry make that same mistake. To run from the truth will not falsify it in the end," Cygnus said. "I will protect him from death. Even if it costs me my life."

-0-

"Mister Rowan, your father is extremely rude! You should tell him to respect the Headmaster more," McGonagall said, looking indignant. Her hands were crossed over her chest and her face was quite severe.

"Professor," Harry said, looking at her. "I am not your middle man. If you have a problem with my dad, tell him directly." Harry was about to turn away, but then thought of his folly. He lacked insight on Dumbledore's character and therefore someone was able to impersonate him. Perhaps he should strive to correct this folly. "You seem to talk highly of Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall. Why is that?"

McGonagall paused, her anger vanishing. "Mister Rowan, are you aware of what Professor Dumbledore has done in the past?"

"My dad mentioned he was a war hero. I fail to see why that would make him famous," Harry said, shaking his head. "A life is something that can't be replaced and if Professor Dumbledore killed people..." He trailed off, looking meaningfully at McGonagall.

"Rowan, there are Dark Wizards at large. It's not as simple as plain murder," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore has done his best in two wars, one of which he won. He removed the horror and fear in our lives."

"Does he forget that everyone that you kill has a family? Friends? People aren't born out of thin air. When a life is lost, all they can do is grieve," Harry said, shrugging. "If he hasn't forgotten that, then I bet he's not happy in the least in being a war hero."

McGonagall looked at Harry and sighed. "It is true. But in battles where it's our life against theirs, what choice do we have?"

"And yet, you've made that choice already. That's why you're here," Harry said. "You want to live. Same with Professor Dumbledore. He wants to live so he's fought his way through it. Even if it meant taking lives. And sacrifices."

Nodding, McGonagall looked at the ground, her face grim. "Yes. That is how war is."

"And you respect him for that?" Harry asked, looking at McGonagall.

"I respect him for all the sacrifices he has had to make in the past. Friends of his. His family… He gave them up to fight for us and without him, we might not have won," McGonagall said.

"I see… But the sacrifices are still dead," Harry said honestly. "I will pay my respects to them, like I do to my parents."

McGonagall didn't seem to know what to say to that.

-0-

The rest of the year passed in a daze. The weather warmed quite dramatically. The area around the lake turned into a popular hangout, but Harry preferred the isolation of his dorm room.

Draco continued to stalk Harry, but now Harry appreciated it a lot more. If Draco had been watching him at the time, he wouldn't have gotten kidnapped by Quirrell so easily.

Harry wondered where Quirrell had gone. The ex-Professor seemed to be in hiding, if the lack of news was anything to go by. There were rumors around the school each more ridiculous than the last, but Harry knew that the man would have to remain hiding for the rest of his life.

Exams weren't very difficult, but that may have been because the teachers had went easy on him. It seemed like they had known about the truth of the face-off between Harry and Quirrell while the rest of the school cooked up rumors.

As for the baby Voldemort, Harry felt a little sorry for whoever it really was. After all, he had been able to scare Quirrell into obeying him them. They must have been one powerful wizard. To have been stuck as a baby, permanently or not, must have really sucked.

Harry thought about Voldemort and his supposed return. He also fished through the library about immortality and finally managed to find out the identity of the rock that Dumbledore had been guarding in Hogwarts. The Philosopher's Stone was a rather precious item in itself, but supposedly, Dumbledore had destroyed it. Harry felt like that was a bit of a pity; with an item like that, Harry could help so many people.

Money might not buy happiness, but money could buy things that made people happy. Money could buy food, water, shelter, even lives. It was a complete waste of an artifact to simply let it sit there. Immortality wasn't something Harry wanted or needed—he would much rather have the gold portion of it.

To be honest, Harry didn't really understand why Dumbledore placed the stone in Hogwarts. According to the text, Nicholas Flamel was Dumbledore's old friend and the owner of said stone. Why would it suddenly become safer when placed with Dumbledore? Dumbledore was no wardist. He was a powerful wizard, sure, but Dumbledore wasn't exactly placing the stone on his person to protect it.

Harry sighed heavily, looking at Draco as he shut his trunk. He had a lot of homework for the holidays, but he was hoping Cygnus would let him do it after the trip.

Taiwan was an island; a beautiful island with the mountains and ocean nearby. Harry enjoyed the brief visits. The food was strange, but also quite delicious.

He left his trunk to go to the feast, walking with Draco the entire time. Draco was rambling on about his manor and how much Harry would love it, but Harry was hardly paying attention. His mind was occupied with thoughts about Voldemort-baby and Quirrell. Perhaps Harry should tell Draco about it. Draco seemed like a good friend, even if Cygnus didn't think so.

Cygnus seemed against Harry being friends with the younger Malfoy. In Harry's opinion, Cygnus had not spent enough time with the younger Malfoy to judge. Would it be worth it to try to prove Cygnus wrong?

"Draco, I need to tell you a story. A…" Harry hesitated, debating on whether to tell the truth or not. He decided on half the truth, just in case Cygnus had been right about the younger Malfoy. "…A dream that I had a couple days ago."

Draco was surprisingly attentive as Harry recounted the details to the younger Malfoy.

By the time Harry finished, Draco had frozen up.

"You… You met He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?! In your dream?! And he was a… a… baby?!" Draco burst out laughing, struggling to breathe as he gasped for air. Harry gave a sheepish grin as Draco continued to laugh, clutching the wall.

"Well… Considering that no one really knows what he looks like… I guess my mind ran away on its own," Harry said, blushing a little.

Draco took a few minutes to catch his breath and then looked at Harry. "It is strange that Quirrell went missing. I knew he was an incompetent teacher, but running away like that was really odd. I wonder what happened to him."

"Rumors say he got dragged off by the vampire he was trying to ward away," Harry said, grinning. "Or maybe he really did run off with a baby who pretended to be Voldemort."

Draco flinched a little and shook his head. "Can you… stop saying his name? It is somewhat taboo to. The Dark Lord as a baby… ah…. I should tell my mother. She would have a good laugh."

Harry was pleased to note that Draco seemed a lot more pleasant during the feast. Draco didn't even make one nasty comment when Hermione came over to compare test answers. He simply ignored the girl, as if she didn't exist.

Draco's good mood continued through the train ride home. Harry gathered his trunk and walked off the Hogwarts Express, laughing with Draco. Even the sight of Cygnus talking with Lucius Malfoy in King's Cross didn't bother him.


	10. The Sail

_**.**_

_**Stars**_

_**Chapter 10: The Sail**_

-0-

Summary: What if Harry wasn't taken in by Petunia? What if, instead, he was taken in by another wizard who moved into number four after Petunia forced her family to move to avoid taking in the freak? Neutral!Harry

Beta: Cauchy! Big thanks to her for being my beta! This means less confusing words and spelling errors and brains flying around.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own character.

_**A/N: For the sake of everyone, I will bold anything in a different language. Taiwanese is a dialect, just like British English is for American English. Written, it is Mandarin Chinese.**_

_**The next chapter will take two weeks. I've been busy, sorry!**_

-0-

Dumbledore buried his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He looked very distraught, but no one was there to witness it.

He wasn't used to taking advice from others. He had always been the mentor, the tutor, or the leader. Cygnus Rowan shouldn't have been able to make him feel like a child. The lambasting that Dumbledore had received shook him a little.

Dumbledore had been so sure. So sure that Harry, the young impressionable little boy that he had met as a baby, would want the best for everyone. Dumbledore had thought that he would agree to sacrifice himself, as cruel as it may sound, for the safety of thousands of others.

Then Cygnus stepped into the picture.

Cygnus was not Dumbledore's equal in terms of magical power. He wasn't even at Dumbledore's level of intelligence. And yet, he had something Dumbledore had never obtained in his long years of existence. He had a child whom he called a _son_ and the child referred to him, despite the lack of blood, as _dad_.

Cygnus was a parent. And as a parent, Dumbledore understood he wanted the best for _Harry_, world be damned. Dumbledore _knew_ that. But he had also, somehow, underestimated the depth of the love Cygnus had for Harry. He felt a bit foolish for that; hadn't muggles and magicals alike proved again and again that blood was not what solidifed the bond between parent and child?

As the Leader of the Light, Dumbledore had no equal. No companion he could share his worries with and get advice from in return. Dumbledore had searched all through his childhood for an equal. That was how he had met Gellert Grindelwald.

Gellert had had Dumbledore's ambition. He had listened to him. He had given him advice and Dumbledore had actually listened in turn. But then, the temptation of power was too much for Gellert to resist. Dumbledore lost his best friend and his only lover that day.

Dumbledore didn't want Cygnus to lose Harry. He didn't want Cygnus to experience that kind of pain. And if Harry lost Cygnus… Dumbledore didn't even want to think about what he would do. Recklessness and the temptation of power might corrupt Harry like they did Gellert all those years ago.

Dumbledore wanted to trust Cygnus. Cygnus seemed like a reasonable man. He seemed like he knew exactly what he was talking about as well as how he was going to do everything. But it was hard to give up the plans that Dumbledore had made all those years ago when the prophecy was spoken. To believe in someone else's ability was something that Dumbledore had not done for many, many years.

But he would do it.

If things were really as Harry had said they were—with Voldemort with a temporary body and Quirrell assisting him, then things were already pretty bad. The fact that Voldemort wanted Cygnus on his side didn't surprise Dumbledore in the least—wardists as skilled as Cygnus were not easy to come by. Adding to that, wardists were also quite knowledgeable in ritual casting—something that Voldemort had always been deeply interested in.

To aggravate Cygnus anymore would cause the man to favor the Dark. Cygnus was right in that he knew what was best for Harry. Even if Dumbledore didn't agree with Cygnus' decision to tell him so soon, he did agree that Harry would have to know.

Dumbledore hoped that his trust in Cygnus wasn't misplaced.

-0-

Severus Snape eyed the cauldron in front of him with a wary eye. The potion he was working on—a powerful anti-paralysis potion—was difficult to brew and quite volatile at this stage. The smallest spark could cause the ingredients to explode.

Unfortunately, this stage was also the longest. It required an hour to simmer and an hour to sit before the crushed dragon scales could be added.

So in the meantime, Snape was left to ponder the idea of Potter in his classes.

Potter didn't seem like the class clown his father was so insistent on being. He wasn't the studious Lily either. He wasn't exactly cunning, or mischievous, or ambitious like other Slytherins either. Of all houses, why had the hat put him in Slytherin?

Potter hadn't gotten into trouble this year, but trouble somehow found him anyway. The missing polyjuice in his storage room told him the basic outline of what had occurred. Quirrell had consumed polyjuice and impersonated Dumbledore. And the boy, for whatever reason, had trusted Dumbledore enough to follow him to the third floor.

Snape was grateful that Cygnus' wards were powerful enough to keep Harry from dying. The boy had at least been smart enough to bring them along. That, Snape supposed, was a Slytherin trait, as was keeping Quirrell and Voldemort occupied until Dumbledore arrived.

Cygnus Rowan, on the other hand, was something of a mystery to Snape. Snape was reasonably certain that the man had power. Political and economical power that, quite possibly, rivaled Lucius Malfoy's. Working for Gringotts already gave the man a name, but the fact that he had _adopted_ the Boy-Who-Lived was definitely icing on the cake. Warding was a tricky business that not many people bothered to try to learn.

Snape watched the cauldron bubble and frowned a little.

Wandless magic and warding magic. Both were rare abilities that few had. Even fewer had the ability to do both. Snape wasn't sure how things were run in Asia, but it was very likely that it was more common there. Immigration out of the Asian Magical community was rare, and most who did refused to tell other Magical communities their secrets. A strong sense of community kept the Asian Magicals loyal.

In fact, according to Snape's research, Cygnus Rowan was one of a hundred Asian citizens who immigrated in the year 1981, as well as the only magical. Why the Asian community let Cygnus immigrate, Snape had no idea. But with a last name like Rowan, it made sense if his roots lay in Europe.

Cygnus didn't look especially Taiwanese, though his immigration papers said that he was. "Cygnus" was also not a very Taiwanese name, but Snape supposed that it was possible that it was his real name while he had a second, Asian name. According to his Asian Potion Master Colleagues, Cygnus had moved for personal reasons, though they remained tight lipped on what those reasons were.

Snape was interested. Cygnus had only been twenty-three when he immigrated to Britain. Twelve years had passed since then, so he would be thirty-five or so. That was an exceedingly young age for someone to move all the way across the globe with no friends or family. Snape wondered at the motives behind the move.

Petunia had put her house on the muggle market long before Lily had died. Muggle documents stated that Cygnus had been in the process of buying the house when the Potters had died and young Harry was dropped on their doorstep. Petunia had supposedly told the movers that the basket, which contained the covered baby Potter, was a housewarming gift for the person who was to move inside that very same day. She had lowered the price so that she could escape as fast as possible.

And, thus, Cygnus had moved in. Cygnus had taken young Potter, raised him as a muggle, and taught him next to nothing about his magic. Snape had seen the reports of exploding matches and needles, as well as Harry's unimpressive results in charms and Defense Against Dark Arts. Harry seemed to grasp the concept more than the actual magic.

In Potions, Potter was quite good. He would do his work, double and triple check his ingredients and weights, as well as copy down notes so he could reference them later. Snape had caught him, more than once, murmuring ingredients to himself or trying to figure out what each ingredient did. It seemed that brewing came naturally to Potter, as it did to Lily.

Snape would have much preferred Cygnus to have been Lily's husband rather than Potter. At least Cygnus could protect her. At least Cygnus would think things through. He would have prepared for Voldemort's attack, rather than put his faith in his _friend_. Then maybe, just maybe, Lily wouldn't have died…

Snapping himself out of his fantasy, Snape picked up the glass stirring rod and gave the potion a gentle swirl. The fumes rose up and dissipated in the cool dungeon air, making swirling patterns in the darkness. Potter was protected now. There wasn't much Snape could do himself to protect the boy anymore.

He mentally cursed himself for his failure to dispose of Quirrell earlier though. Not even Snape could have predicted that the man could plan to that degree. Dumbledore mentioned that the Dark Lord was alive and had a body but Snape still doubted the truth in that, as his Dark Mark had not grown darker through the year.

Snape suspected that someone was impersonating the Dark Lord, or perhaps using the Dark Lord's name to try to intimidate Potter. It didn't seem to have worked that well though, as Potter simply pretended that he didn't understand or believe him. Obviously, the boy was harder to scare than Snape had first assumed.

In fact, Snape wasn't even sure if Potter believed that he had met the Dark Lord. It was quite possible that the boy also thought that the Dark Lord was dead and that this was an imposter. After seeing Dumbledore turn into Quirrell, the boy would have definitely considered that possibility.

Snape brandished his wand and held it over the cauldron. Well, he would know soon enough if it was really the Dark Lord or not.

-0-

"You really are useless."

Voldemort watched Quirrell bumble around to make him tea, as he flipped through the thick tome on the table in front of him. As a baby, it was dreadfully hard to move around without tripping over himself or falling. Apparently, babies weren't very coordinated. So Voldemort was forced to rely on  
Quirrell for basic tasks.

What Voldemort really wanted was his wand back. But as it was, he needed a body first. This baby's body wasn't very stable—trying to use magic in it might damage the body, shove his soul out of the body, or both.

It was humiliating, to stay as a baby for the time being. Voldemort tapped his finger on the table lightly, looking at the book with a level of disdain. At least the only one to witness it was Quirrell, and  
he was disposable. At least Quirrell had gotten Potter to the last room, even if he had failed in getting the stone for him. For now, the man was still useful, so he had yet to get rid of him. Voldemort pondered on his conversation with Potter.

Potter didn't seem convinced that he was actually Voldemort. Voldemort could tell that much, even without diving into the boy's mind. Questioning his identity wasn't something many people did—Voldemort took that as a personal challenge. The fact that Potter did made Voldemort wonder if Potter had met someone who pretended to be him, or if he truly believed that he was dead.

The Dark Mark was linked to his followers by magic. Voldemort had restricted his magic for the time being. It would do no good to inform his followers too soon, as anything they did now would likely put a damper on his subsequent takeover of the Wizarding World.

Voldemort leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He wondered what kind of person the Ward Master was. According to his sources, namely Quirrell, his name was Cygnus Rowan. He had white hair and a fair complexion. He was skilled enough that Gringotts had hired him upon his arrival  
to Britain.

He needed that wardist. He knew the idea of magicals and muggles sharing a world was still far off, but it was a possibility that would never happen in Britain if magicals remained so stubborn about their seclusion. Muggles and magicals lived together in Asia just fine. Magicals just needed a strong Leader to guide them into the process of taking over the muggle world.

Voldemort hated the whole idea of the Ministry of Magic. It was a joke. The only people who benefited were those with pure blood. As a half-blood raised in the muggle world, Voldemort had had no place in their society. That's why he had pretended he was pure-blood and, as Salazar  
Slytherin's heir, no one questioned him.

Ordinary magicals would amount to nothing. They would become lowly workers, pitiful assistants, or salesmen. To Master an art like Potions or Warding was rare. Quite often, the Master would get their license in another country. Examiners in Britain would turn away those whose blood wasn't pure.

Half-bloods would often betray their magical heritage and learn skills in the muggle world. They would forgo their magic, simply because the Ministry would give the better opportunities to purebloods, no matter how bright the half-blood was or how daft the pureblood was. Power and intelligence  
Voldemort valued, no matter what kind of blood was behind it.

Muggle-borns, _mudbloods_, Voldemort wasn't even going to bother trying to consider what happened to them. He sneered in disgust at the thought of them abandoning their magic for grander things in the muggle world. Even though Voldemort understood why, so many had left that Voldemort wasn't inclined to even consider them magical. They were no better than the regular muggles.

Voldemort wasn't born to be a follower, despite his blood. He was a _leader_. And as a_  
_leader, he couldn't just sit back and watch the Wizarding World collapse. As it was, the population of magicals actively participating in the Ministry was declining at an alarming rate. Only the purebloods remained in charge, but their ideas and thoughts were outdated, much like the rest of Britain's magical world. Voldemort recalled the Black's family motto "_Toujours pur_" or "_Always Pure_". It fit the Ministry of Magic's idea of power perfectly.

As expected, hundreds of purebloods wouldn't be willing to simply give up their position of power to let the younger generation, the fresher blood, lead. Voldemort appealed to as many as he could with the idea of a world where they wouldn't have to hide their magic in front of muggles and would be able to rule them like kings. Purebloods like Lucius Malfoy fell for it, hook-line-and-sinker, wanting the power to exterminate muggles.

Then there were people like Dumbledore. Voldemort gave a mental sneer of disgust, his tiny fists clenching the old oak table. Dumbledore, the Light wizard who would rather fight him than change the Wizarding World for the better. With all of the old fool's brilliance, he should be the first one to see that the Wizarding World was on the verge of collapsing. But no, the old fool remained in his blissful denial, calling _him_ evil and Dark.

This wasn't a _game_ of good against evil or Light against Dark. It was about doing what was best for magic—for all the children who would rather go to the muggle world since they couldn't get a well-paying job in the Wizarding World. People like _Voldemort_ himself, who started off as a shop assistant and was unable to climb the ranks simply because of his _blood_.

Voldemort _hated_ muggles. They had treated him badly as a child, but Voldemort also realized that there were plenty of _brilliant_ muggles out there. Muggles made do without magic, finding solutions to things that Voldemort could only dream of. Voldemort had spent quite a bit of time, as a teen and as an adult, reading muggle literature and informational books. It would be foolish to try and rule over the Muggle world without knowing about Muggles first.

Tom Riddle hadn't become Lord Voldemort by making stupid choices and decisions. Each move had been carefully planned out, the risks calculated, the pros and the cons laid out. Even the night he went to kill the Potters.

Voldemort glanced out of the broken window. One of the window panes was shattered and the wood on the windowsill was rotting, but Voldemort barely noticed. The prophecy was something not even Voldemort could have predicted. Since he had heard of it, Voldemort had spent many months  
weighing his options. However, time was short back then, the Order of the Phoenix was catching up to him, mostly due to the efforts of James Potter. His options were limited.

Since words clearly didn't have much of an effect, Voldemort had to act. He had originally only planned to kill James Potter, but the prophecy weighed heavily on his mind. If the child was anything like his father, he would kill him, and then that would be years and years of sleepless nights, of planning, of _brilliance _that went up in smoke. No, death was most definitely _not_ part of Voldemort's plan for taking over the Wizarding World. Magicals were dumber than a sack of bricks and had no common sense or logic whatsoever—if they tried force, muggles would simply use what the newspapers called "nuclear weapons". That would be a complete disaster. Magic could do a lot, but people could not prepare for something that they had never seen before.

Voldemort wanted that power. He needed it to keep Magicals and Muggles in place. The terror of technology that muggles had produced and kept countries at bay. It was an intoxicating aspect.

Voldemort had panicked that night he went to murder the Potters. He had let his fear of death raise his wand against a helpless child and had shot the Killing Curse at the boy. Looking back at it, it was an impulsive, foolish decision to act before hearing the rest of the prophecy. That mistake had cost him ten years.

Voldemort wouldn't be making _that_ mistake again. He would appeal to Potter and his father, convincing them that if they joined him, it would be for the good of the Wizarding World. Cygnus came from a background of magicals and muggles living together—he could give insight on how magicals ruled over muggles. Potter was a good asset, as his presence would boost Voldemort's political power.

But if he was planning on such a thing, Voldemort couldn't keep using an alias. Originally, he had created the alias so he could be spoken about without the risk of people finding out his true blood heritage and his background. Once he obtained control over the Ministry, then he could flesh out the start of a new era. One in which muggles would submit to the more powerful magicals.

-0-

Harry hid his laughter behind his hand as he heard Cygnus' mother, his grandmother, complain. He wasn't completely fluent in Taiwanese, but he understood enough to get the gist of what his grandmother was saying.

"Harry," said his grandmother, her accent thick, but doing her best to enunciate each word, "You want a mama right?"

Before Harry could even reply, Cygnus' mother turned back to her son and said, "**See! Your son wants a mother. Hurry up and get married. Ah-yah! You're almost forty. And you're so handsome. You need a pretty wife.**"

"**Mama,**" Cygnus said exasperatedly. Harry gave another snicker of laughter.

"**I even picked out a few good ones for you. Stay in Taiwan and settle down with a nice girl,**" grandmother said.

"Now, Xue," Cygnus' dad was saying, "I'm sure that Cygnus can manage to find a wife if he wants one. But since he already has a son, so he might not want to."

Cygnus sent his dad a grateful look and picked up their bags. "**Mama. We have to go. The plane will leave soon.**"

Xue's eyes softened and she reached for her son's face. "**Be safe.**" She turned to Harry and said, "You need to eat more. Too skinny."

"Yes, **Grandma**," Harry said obediently, giving her a hug. "It was nice to see you."

"Come visit again soon," Cygnus' dad said, waving at them.

"**Yes, Father,**" Cygnus replied.

Harry smiled as he walked over to the taxi. He thought about his grandparents fondly.

His grandmother, Xue Rowan, was a little Asian woman, only five feet, three inches. She had gray hair, which she would tie back in a bun with a red ribbon. She was one hundred percent Taiwanese and had met her husband when she was twenty-two. It wasn't exactly an arranged marriage, even if it looked like one; Xue's mother had heard of a smart man who worked in the government. She had arranged for them to meet and apparently then arranged the wedding a year later. Her family were muggles, or non-magical. The men in her family traditionally ran martial art schools.

His grandfather, Alnair Rowan, was the wizard in their family. Alnair was an imposing man of six feet, two inches, his hair the same shade of white as Cygnus'. He was also a wardist, the one who had taught Cygnus everything he knew. His family consisted largely of warding specialists and he was one of the many who maintained the magical field around Taiwan, which was one of the reasons they lived in a mountain high above sea level. He was born in England and moved to Taiwan to help maintain the wards. It was there he had met Xue and fallen in love.

On official documents, Harry's dad's name was Cygnus Rowan. But Xue would often affectionately call him Little Swan. Harry could see that it irked Cygnus a little, but Cygnus put up with it, either because she was his mother, or because he knew she didn't mean any harm by it. To be honest though, Harry understood why it irked him—Cygnus was already thirty-five. There was nothing little in all six feet of him.

"Dad?" Harry asked, watching his father get their tickets for the flight.

"Yes?" Cygnus replied, distracted by the passport checking and the baggage check-in.

"I want to stay at Hogwarts."

Cygnus glanced at him and then collected their tickets. He didn't say anything until they had sat down in the waiting area, their plane apparently undergoing maintenance.

"May I ask why?" Cygnus finally asked, turning to Harry. Harry took a deep breath and prayed that Cygnus would not take this the wrong way.

"I want to learn from the best," he said. "And… I don't really want to cause trouble for Dumbledore."

Cygnus's eyebrow twitched, but he remained silent, as Harry seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

"You told me," Harry started, "You told me before that… I should keep my friends close, but my enemies closer. I need to know my enemy to be able to fight them." He looked at Cygnus carefully. "Since Dumbledore is trying to… um… endear himself to me… perhaps I should play along, if only to find out more about him."

"That kind of tactic would work on a lesser man, but Dumbledore is a war veteran. No doubt he knows about such tactic. He might have even applied it before," Cygnus said. "Do you think Dumbledore is right, in that you need to be the one to defeat Voldemort?"

Harry didn't reply right away. Finally, he looked at Cygnus and said, "Yes."

Cygnus was silent for a few minutes as well, but then he said, "Alright. But if that is the case, then it will be on my terms. Not the convoluted, manipulative terms of Albus Dumbledore."

"I won't do it by myself though. I need allies. Dumbledore and his contacts would be good allies, wouldn't they?" Harry asked. Cygnus nodded.

"Yes, but Dumbledore is no fool. He might suspect, or even know what you are up to," Cygnus said. "I won't disagree with you wanting to learn from the best, as it is your schooling and your future. And you should never judge by appearances. Dumbledore may seem all good, but if you take into account all he's put you through in the past year, I would reconsider that thought. Voldemort may seem evil, but he's definitely not stupid. He has his reasons."

Harry nodded, wondering what those reasons could be. Cygnus didn't elaborate, but stood up instead, getting ready to board the plane.

It wasn't until Harry was in bed back in number four that he remembered that he had forgotten to ask his grandpa about Cygnus' friends, or lack thereof. He rolled over in bed, wondering if Hedwig would be willing to fly all the way to Taiwan to deliver a letter.


End file.
